IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) i v\% % 1.0 I.I S6 IM ^ U& 12.0 i.8 II-25 III 1.4 IIIIM.6 V] yi '>/ > o / /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 '^>. ^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. □ Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ D D D y D D Couverture endommag^e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaur^ et/ou pelliculie I I Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque I I Coloured maps/ Cartes giographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Relid avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ Lareliure serrie peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge intirieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ 11 se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela itait possible, ces pages n'ont pas it6 filmies. Additional comments:/ Commentaires supplimentaires; L'Institut a microfilm* le meilleur exemplaire qu'ii lui a iti possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la m6thode normale de filmage sont indiquis ci-dessous. D D D n/ D \/ n D Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommagies Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaurdes et/ou pellicuiies Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages ddcolordes, tachet^es ou piqudes Pages detached/ Pages ditachdes Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of print varies/ Quality in^gale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel suppl^mentaire I I Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been ref limed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont M filmies A nouveau de fapon A obtenir la meilleure image possible. The tot The pos oft filnn Ori| beg the sioi oth firs sioi ori The sha TIN whi Ma diff ent be( rigt req me This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film* au taux de reduction indiqui ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X 7 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X ails du difier jne lage The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —^-(meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. IVIaps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire fllmA f ut reproduit grAce A la ginirosltd de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada Las images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at de la nettetA de I'exempialre film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires origlnaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimis sont filmte en commen^ant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impresslon ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires origlnaux sont film6s en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impresslon ou d'illustration et en terminant par la derniAre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la derniftre image de cheque microfiche, seion le cas: le symbols —^ signifie "A SUIVRE ", le symbole V signifie "FIN ". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir de I'angle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. rata lelure, I h H 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 V*' ' fir. ■.■■CrfBjlpS"') P' POEMS A XI ) SOXGS 'Aaistly 3coich. i 'a J HY ANDREW WANLESS. SKCOND K I) IT ION, TO WHICH IS ADDED A NUMKRR OF NRW PIECKS NEVEH DI-FOI^f: PUBLISHED • • • While the daisy lieckj the lea, Scotia's sangs will never dee — Floating down time's jilent river, Time and they will dii" togeth^r. V'KvJi, m % M DETROIT, MICH. puansHEirav a. wanless, ijj jekfi:RjON avenue. 18 73. A (7 71958 Enterea according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, ^J Andrew WANLEts, in the office oi the Librarian of" Congress, at Washington. '. Printed by The Daily Post Company, Detroit, Mich. *• iy PREFACE TO THE Fll^ST EDITIOf(. HE primary design in the composition of these "" Poems and Songs *' was an endea\or to hnk the i)resent with the past — to recall the scenes of our early years to bring up, in imagination, the braw lads and the bonnie lasses that we forgathered with in the days of the king syne, and attempt to describe^ on this side of the Atlantic, the wimpling burns, the gowany braes, the bonnie glens, the broomy dells, and the heather-clad mountains of our native land : the land where Wallace and Bruce wielded (ho patriotic sword, and where Ramsay, Burns, Scott, annahill, and many more sang the songs of love and liberty. The secondary object was to lay before my country- men and the American people some specimens of the Scottish vernacular. At the present time I am sorry to say that a number of poets are in che habit of losing themselves in the clouds, and instead of writing to be understood, one would naturally imagine that they try their best to mystify and .befog the reader. In contra- distinction I have attempted to keep as near the earth as possible, and endeavored to clothe my sentences in plain and home-spun attire. Some other poetasters, from their lack of w'it, no doubt, have attempted to wx'wv^ out 4 * J i ■•* . '\ ■■■*' V 'il. bastard and weak puerility by mangling, distorting and misspelling the Knglish language. These authors who thus pamper and pander to the vulgar taste, in my poor opinion are more to be |)itied than despised. No one that is conversant with the Scottish language ran deny its rich beauty and its adaptation for lyric and descriptive comjiosition. If I have failed to make this volume readable, the fault cannot be attribu'cd to the language, but on the other hand the demerit must be laid at the door of the author. A few of the " Poems and Songs " first appeared in the Scottish American J^ourfialy Hamilton Times, Sarnia Obsen'er, and the Detroit Daily Newspapers, to the resi)ective editors of which I return thanks for courtesies extended. The majority of the pieces, I may however state, appear in this collection for the first time. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. HK success that attended the puhlicaiion of ilic first edition of this work, has induced the author to issue a second edition, to which is added a number of " Poems and Songs,'' never l)efore ])ul)Hshed. The first edition was more favorably rcN'iewed by the press of the United States, C'anada and Scotland, than the author, in his most sanguine moments, ever anticipated ; and he trusts that this edition will also merit the favorable criticism of the j)ress and the patron- age of the public. Detroit, Mich., June ii{73. % *!: t ^•i Jable of Pontents. rAUE A Sabbath Morning in Scotland.. 24 A Kittlin Clatter }Z A Pastoral 47 A Precious Jewel 68 A Word to the Canadian Weevil. 71 A Weak Man and a Strong Woman 157 A Reformation IV) A Scotch Sangster's Comin' I41 Aye keep your Heart Aboon 10 Belle Isle aboon Detroit 147 Bonnie Nell I5S Caledonian Games on Belle Isle.. 4} Craigie Castle 14^ Come, Sweetheart, come 159 Detroit is the Town for Me 149 Ellen Dear 171 Folk should aye be equal Yokit.. $z Her Heart wa: aW .viine Own.... 146 Her love for me did Wither 158 Hohenwindsor 65 Home Recollections 12 I ance had a lad 1 76 I Lo'e my Alice best o' a' 168 Jean and Donald 129 Jeanie Bell .• 1 50 Jineral O'Neil 151 Kate o' Boontrce 161 Lamentation for Mike Gill 49 Lammermoor 165 Little Nellie 157 Mary 164 My Love, O! Come to Me 148 Nan o' Lockermarus 87 Our Mither Tongue 9 Rob Trotter's Gimmer 57 Scottish Sangs ^8 Tarn and Tib Sj i'AOK That's but Nat'ral 29 The Trysting Nicht 167 The Rose of Springwells i6<; The .Maid of Wayne 17c The Flower o' Duntrnon 172 The Death of McGregor 17} The Auld Man's Courtship 174 The Creelin' 16 The Dialogue of the Breaks 59 The Wallace Monument 6t The Scott Centenary f/t The Cat Aneath the Chair 77 The Poor o' the Parish 105 The Second Sight iii The Wife aid the Breeks 126 The Men o' the .Merse 15} The Banks o' the Dye 154 The lang Tailor o' Whitby 155 The Cow avc Chicago 156 I'he Courting o' the Widow 162 Tib's Slighted me ye ken 124 To John A. Bruce 117 To Dad Brichan 108 To James Walker io^> To A. H. Wingfield (t% To James McKay 27 Too .Much Liberty 71 Turning the Key 20 War and Peace } i When Nell was Aughtecn 17^ Willy has proved false to mc. .. ift(> Who Should and Who Shouldn't.. !2i Who's Comin' ? n'xj Ye Ballad of Jeanie Johnston .... J4 Proverbs 177 Glossary 1S7 \^ JK '». * I'AOK 29 167 Ux) 17c »7i I7J '74 .... ir> Jv .... 61 &> 77 10? Ill 12^ .... ISJ IS4 155 iSf> i6z 124 H7 108 106 6i 27 71 20 }i .... 177 ic. .. iU> ilJn't.. 121 If)0 Dn.... J4 .... 177 .... 1S7 TO THK MK.MIJKk.S or THE ft. i^ndreur $1 ^tudttit^ mA (R^UiUnim iS>\wh% or THE UNITl'D STATli.S AND CANADIAN DOMINION THIS VOLUME I.s Mosi Rksim.c. iKiiiN 1 )i;i>ic \i i:i» BY THE AITHOF; 4 ■la \%.i ^3 ;<^l 11. J I c Read befoi t • * C£? POEMS. Our M.ithef^ Tongue. Read before the St. Andrew^i Society, Detroit, November 30, 1 870. \T'S monie a day since first we left Auld Scotland's rugged hills — Her heath'ry braes and gow'ny glens, Her bonnie winding rills. We lo'ed her in the by-gane time, When life and hope were young, We lo'e her still, wi' right guid will, And glory in her tongue 1 Can we forget the summer days Whan we got leave frae schule, How we gade birrin' down the braes To daidle in the pool ? Or to the glen we'd slip awa Where hazel clusters hung. And wake the echoes o' the hills — Wi' our auld mither tongue. Can we forget the lonesome kirk Where gloomy ivies creep ? Can we forget the auld kirk yard ^ Where our forefather's sleep ? We'll ne'er forget that glorious land, ^ Where Scott and Burns sung — Their sangs are printed on our hearts > In our auld mither tongue. f V HI hi ^fr A 10 AYE KEEP YOUR HEART ABOON. V Auld Scotland ! land o' mickle fame ! The land \vhere Wallace trod, The land where heartfelt praise ascends Up to the throne of God ! Land where the Martyrs sleep in peace. Where infant freedom sprung, Where Knox in tones of thunder spoke In our auld mither tongue ! Now Scotland dinna ve be blate 'Mang nations crousely craw. Your callants are nae donnert sumphs, Your lasses bang them a'. The glisks o' heaven will never fade, That hope around us flung — When first we breath'd the tale o' love In our auld mither tongue ! O ! let us ne'er forget our hame, Auld Scodand's hills and cairns, And let us a' where'er we be. Aye strive "to be guid bairns" ! And when we meet wi' want or age A-hirpling owre a rung. We'll tak' their part and cheer their heart Wi' our auld mither tongue. jiili • ■ •- Aye keep youh. Heart Aboon. Respectfully inscribed to A. D. Eraser^ Esq. H ! monie a day has gane, guidfolks, Since first this warld I kent, \ And folk o' a' degrees I've seen Gie wav to discontent ; AYE KEEP YOUR HEART ABOON. II ') They growl at this, they growl at that, Their growlin's never doon, They ne'er will learn to sing wi' me — • " Aye keep your heart aboon." Aye keep your hearts aboon, guidfolks. Whatever may befa', O ! ne'er forget the gowden words — "Tine heart and ye tine a'." The wimplin' bums, the bonnie birds, A' nature sings the tune. And tells the thankless race o' man To keep their hearts aboon. I no deny that we, guidfolks, Ha'e a' our load o' care. And e'en at times been on the brink O' even-doon despair ; But we should mind that there was a;ie Who bore the cross and croon, Who taught us a' to live in hope. And trust in heaven aboon. Aye keep your hearts aboon, guidfolks. And dinna be down cast, There comes a blink o' sunshine aye When angry winds blaw past. Tis best to turn our back on care. For he's a cauldriff loon, But Leddy Hope says to us a' " Aye keep your hearts aboon." Dame Nature ne'er design'd, guidfolks. When first She ga'e us breath, That we should stand in mortal fear O' that grim Carl Death, ii 2V*' /f; 'i**»!»**'l % ■i*-' i !»'iv " ■'.'I r4 12 HOME RECOLLECTIONS. m She ga'e us Hope and sister Joy, To tend us late and soon, Sae let us strive to be content, And keep our hearts aboon. Distress and grief will come, guidfolks. But Pity aye draws near. And Hope and Joy will watch and wait To wipe the waefu' tear ; When winter's gane the spring will come, And syne the flow'rs o' June, The wells o' Hope they ne'er rin dry, Sae keep your hearts aboon. The days and years slip by, guidfolks, And mingle with the past. And Reason tells us, ev'ry breath Draws nearer to the last, And when Death comes, as sure he will, Be comin' late or soon. May Faith and Hope attendant wait To waft our souls aboon. • • • ^ OME Recollections. Inscribed to D. Bethune Duffield^ Esq. Y Muse ! Come flit with me an hour. To gow'ny braes and sylvan dells ; Come fancy, dwell in Lammermoor — Amang the bonnie heather-bells. Let me forget the weary years. The hardships and the ills that grieve me, Let me forget the bygone tears. Since I, in sorrow, laith did leave thee ! HOME RECOLLECTIONS. Your hills in lovely grandeur vie, Your crystal streamlets rin sae clear, Still let me trace the winding Dye, And muse on hame and Scotia dear. With eager step climb Redpath hill, With rapture scan the rural shade. And see the cot beside the rill. Where first my infant footsteps stray'd. I see oiir house, our auld, auld hame. My brothers, sisters and the lave, I see a form I scarce can name. Who now lies mould'ring in the grave. The falt'ring tongue of woe is weak. To tell the soul's despairing gloom. The silent tears alone can speak The grief that's cradled in the tomb. My Mother ! thou wert kind to me. Although the grave did early get thee, The tear still rises in mine e'e. My Mother ! I will ne'er forget thee ! And there my other parent lies. Set free from care and carking strife — An honest man, sedate and wise. As ever drew the breath of life. There stands the school — the pathway gate. Where aft my truant feet did climb, Lur'd by the wand of luckless fate. To weave unseen the rustic rhyme. To wander by the murm'ring stream, To pull the roses fresh and fair. And learn to dream life's idle dream. And build the castle in the air. 13 k'OI - yi ^ 4ii 14 HOME RECOLLECTIONS. v^ Ah me ! upon yon grassy glade, Where high the clust'ring rowans hung, How aft Fve sat beneath the shade. To list the notes the blackbird sung ! The golden cloud, the sunny beam, Have melted into gloamin' grey ; My playmates — lost upon life's stream — E'en like a wave have passed away ! Down in the glen the churchyard lies, The hazel bank the streamlet laves. Yon aged willow soughs and sighs. And weeps upon the lowly graves. In fancy still I fondly stray, And tread the path my fathers trod. Where thorns and briars half hide the way That leads up to the house of God. My mem'ry conjures up the look. The rev'rend Pastor's locks so grey, I still can see him ope the book. And hear the words : " Come, let us pray." A stillness reigns in every aisle, A gloomy and a holy calm — Devotion hovers round the while, And wafts to heaven the sacred Psalm. With quiv'ring lip and tearful cheek The Pastor speaks of God and love ; • Through Christ, the lowly and the meek. He points the way to heaven above. He tells of earth and earthly woe. Of heaven and heaven's eternal day. Where we shall God, our Father, know — , And all our tears be washed away ! .n. .V HOME RECOLLECTIONS. 15 i The young and old attentive sit, With watchful eye and list'ning ear, While o'er their face alternate flit — A heavenly hope, an earthly fear. The vile he warns to think, to stop — The path to heaven is still the best ; To drooping hearts he counsels hope, To weary souls he speaks of rest. The sunbeams glimmer through the trees, And dance above the solemn throng. While borne upon the gentle breeze To heaven ascends the heartfelt song. O, Scotland ! may the God of life Forever shower his blessings on thee ! O ! may the seeds of hate and strife, Be sown for never more upon thee ! And may thy sons be ever found An honor to the human race, May God in his eternal round From thee and thine ne'er hide his face ! The bard nursed in the lap of care, Oppressed with grief and tangled fate — His fleeting moments cry "prepare !" Time never shuts the church yard gate. O'! may we never, ne'er forget The lessons of our early years ; Examples that our parents set, Their admonitions and their tears. And when death's curtain o'er us falls, May heaven dispel the clouds of night, O ! may we hear the voice that calls : " Come, welcome to the realms of light." ■^ \ ; *f ■ ■ '« . .• ■ ■■•♦ ,■ ' f ■ ■ *?% *» 1 Pww A i^:f ■sj i6 THE CREELIN'. The Ci^eelin', [It was a custom, in certain districts of Scotland, from time imme- morial, to " creel ** the bridegroom, /. «., to tie a creel upon his back, and to fill it as full of stones as the " heapit measure " would allow, and then to march the young guidman, amidst roars of laughter, before the doors of the clachan. When the bridegroom was beginning to totter beneath the burden, and as the saying is, "upon his last legs/* the bride would rush out of the house, and with a gullie knife cut the strings, and make basket and stones play birr upon the ground. This part of the business was usually followed with cheers as loud as the lungs of the on-lookers would permit. I may also add, that no mar- riage was considered complete till the custom above described had taken place.] UR Andrew was a canty lad, As dink a lad as e'er ye saw, But now he is baith dowff and sad, Since Luc/s stown his heart awa'. On summer nights when dargs were done, Upon the green he'd dance wi' glee, But a' the lasses he wad shun. Though hard they tried to catch his e'e. But Lucy, she cam' ower the hill, And Andrew's heart gaed kempin' sair. For she had cheeks sae rosy red, And oh ! sae gowden was her hair. Her e'en did glint sae bonnie blue, Her neck was like the driven snow. She had a heart baith kind and true. As pure as earth can ever know. .'•>. "i THE CREELIN'. 17 He met her in her father's ha', He watched the glances o' her e'e, And aye the mair o' her he saw, The mair o' her he wished to see. And now he gangs just like a ghaist, 'Mang dowie glens he aften strays ; He dems on the moorland waste. And cries on death to end his days. His coggie clean he canna scart. He scunners at his very kail ; At mirkest hour he'll eerie start, And wake the echoes wi' his wail. His hair he never kames ava. It's kink'd and matted round his croon, Belyve, he'll tak' his pipe and blaw. And gape and glower up at the moon. He wears nae ribbon at his knee, And when he gangs to kirk or mill, He looks as sad as sad can be. And a' for love o' Lucy Hill. But Lucy ken'd, in spite o' fate, That Andrew lo'ed her unco weel. Now they are wed, though unco blate — She frae his back did cut the creel. She cut the strings ! She whang'd them through I And on the ground the creel pla/d birr. Then auld and young cried " Hip-harroo ! " While some wi' gigglin couldna stir. Auld Aunty Kirsty beck'd and laugh'd, Ye might hae tied her wi' a strae, Jean Tait, poor woman, lap like daft. Syne coup'd, and tumbled down the brae ! i\ "fpsi 41 ,■■: >'n ..VI. t * '.^. •"1 ' i8 THE CREELIN'. I I h • A bonnie lass was Jessie Dunn, She cuist at Jock a 'tatie peelin', Her very curls danced wi' fun — As she cried : ''Jock, when is your creelin?" Then Jockie cried : " When ye consent ! " To kiss his Jessie off he ran. But like a deer awa she went, Sayin' : "Jockie, catch me if ye can." Now Andrew took his Lucy's hand. And then they tried to slip away. But auld John Elder cried out " stand ! For I've a word or twa to say." John drew a breath, syne said ** my lass Ye're a rail purpose lookin' wife, I mark'd true smeddum in your face When ye cam' bleezing wi' the knife. " I mind fu' weel when I was creel'd. My wife was just a muleish molly, She took the dorts, syne roar'd and squeel'd, And wadna goam the very gully. " 'Afore the doors wi' my big lade I waggel'd like a willow wand. Yet still the dour camstery jade. Wad neither left her fit or hand ! ** At length my wind and strength ga'e out And down I fell wi' sic a ris'le, Without a shadow o' a doubt I thought I'd burstit a blood vessel ! " The creel-rope hankit round my throat, I thought my back had snap'd asunder. How lang I lay I've e'en forgot. For that transpired in Eighteen hunder*. THE CREELIN . '9 " Tarn Blacklock had a bang guidwife, She cock'd her lug and heard my granes, She cut the rope and saved my life, Syne heezed me up frae 'mang the stanes. ** I ga'e a glow'r at Draigle-tail, Her conduct sairly did deceive me, That very night she took leg-bail. Her emigration didna grieve me. *'Now Lucy tak' advice frae me, Ye'll find it aye the wisest plan, Until the minit that ye dee Aye strive to please your ain guidman." Now Tam Tod said : " John, I've a doubt, That tongue o' yours wad thole a teather, See, man ! the bride's as white's a cloot And still ye'll deave her wi' your blether ! " Then Lucy led her Andrew in. She sneck'd the door wi' tentie care, She kissed the spot aboon his chin, Guidsakes ! they were a couth ie pair. And thus he spoke : " O ! Lucy dear, I'm glad that creel is afif my back ; '' Then Lucy shed a thankfu' tear, Syne Andrew gave her smack for smack. Harken, ye wives, 'tween you and me, In weel waled words I speak ye fair, Wi' your guidman ne'er disagree, But strive to ease his load o' care ! Ne'er thraw the mouth, and jeer and jaw, And stamp your feet an' rair an' shore him. That is the daftest plan o' a'. Your smiles wad soon "come Paddy o'er him." •* (il •• . • '1 V 'i-;it 20 TURNING THE KEY. fill In! And you, ye lasses, loud I pray. That goodness still may ever guide ye, Frae good advisement never stray. And then nae ill can e'er betide ye. Auld maids ! ye're aiblins blest 'bune a'. Your man will never catch a creelin', The men, ye ken, are just a staw. They're sae devoid o' sense and feelin'. And last to a' the human race (I'm strivin' sair to end this letter), I fondly trust, wi' help o' grace. Instead o' worse, we'll aye grow better. How happy Andrew's wi' his wife. She lo'es him extraordinar' weel, She still preserves the gully knife. But Andrew burnt the muckle creel ! ♦ •» -* Turning the Key. HE Shearers had got.through the shearin'. The Autumn to an end was wearin'; The kye that browsed 'mang moors and mosses, Gade hame to sleep in byres and houses. The sun had set, the stars were blinking. At his fire-side Tam Swan sat winking, He ga'e a gaunt, and then quo' he, " Jenny ! Guidwife, gae turn the key, Right off to bed I e'en maun creep, For I am fairly daised wi' sleep." Sae cross the floor auld Tammie shankit. And soon he crawled aneath the blankit; The Guidwife scoured baith pat and pan. Syne cuddled in wi' her Guidman ! .''H^ TURNING THE KEY. at A daughter heaven had sent this pair — A strapping queen, baith fresh and fair, This bonnie lassie's name was Nell — Her sweetheart's name was Willy Bell ; The parents left Nell in the nook, A-glowerin' o'er an auld sang book ; She heard her minnie lock the door — She heard her father gi'e a snore ; Then frae her seat the lassie loupit, By some mischance the candle coupit, She banged it up to blaw it in, And near-hand burnt her bonnie chin I She heard the garden-gate play jee. She made the candle-doup play flee, Syne slippit aff and turned the key — Then out she sprang as light's a filly. To ha'e a courting 'bout wi' Willy. How heedlessly the moment's fly, When lovers heave the heartfelt sigh — They see nae bogles creeping by 1 Sleep on the aged couple centered. When in the door a Kyloe ventur'd. It snuffed awhile about the entry, And syne it edged up to the pantry. But, finding neither com nor clover. The stupid beast began to dover. Then down it crap upon the floorin' Near hand where Tammie led "the snorin', 'Gainst the bed-post it gave a ristle, Which soon gar'd Jenny fyke and fistle — And listen with a tentie ear. In case auld Satan should appear. As thus she lay as still's a lammie. Fast by the side o' sleeping Tammie ; She heard a kind o' unkent breathin' — Soon terror to her heart was cleavin*; She dunches Tarn — she says, "Oh waukin', Wi' dread my very heart is quakin', ,f -55/ % , >^ *V II »a TURNING THE KEY. As sure's I live, I hear a snivel As if it cam' fresh frae the deevil I " Yet Tammie lay devoid o' thought, Though fear nailed Jenny to the spot ; At length he muttered " tuts, lie still, It's naething but our daughter Nell, Wha's dished wi' sleep and breathing sair. Or aiblins fashed wi' the night-mare." He gave a grunt syne round did creep, Auld Tammie soon was fast asleep. When winds blaw fair upon life's ocean. Pride in our hearts aft drowns devotion. When storms arise we cry to heaven. And pant and pray to be forgiven I Now Jenny is my illustration — Losh ! how she groaned on this occasion I Her flaff ring pulse at times stood still. At times it yerkit like a mill, Fear fastened on her very eye — Her every pore weep'd agony ! There is a limit to endurance, Her inward prayers brought no assurance ; She drew a breath ! She gave a bellow That woke the very sleeping Kyloe ; Whiff! Tammie out the bed played whack. And got a-stride the Kyloe's back. He sat and groaned as if on thorns, Syne grappled hard a pair o' horns I The Kyloe sprang — dashed to the door, The brute re-echoed Tammie's roar. Fear at ilk hair did rive and rug, Despair did whistle in his lug, Sic dismal dread was never ken'd — His very night-cap stood on end ! As Tammie held by horn and pow He yelled — " The deevil's got me now ! " While Jenny in her bed did lie Preparing for eternity ! TURNING THE K£Y. M Out through the yard the beastie loupit, It funked and plunged and Tammie coupit ; As Nell and Will saw something comin', Out ower the dyke they baith gadf bummin', Then headlong scoured across the bent, Their furious shrieks i!ie welkin rent, For, past the twa the brute gade drivin'— As if its very hide was rivin'. Poor Willy sair his croon did claw. While Nelly fairly swoon'd awa ! When time had brought them to their senses, Hamcward they gade wi' few pretenses ; They keekit ower the garden wa', Hech me ! an unco sight they saw, There Tammie lay besmeared wi' glaur, And glow'rin' at the evening star ! Nellie instinctive raised his head. At first, she thought that he was dead. Yet though his bones were cloured and bloody. The breath had not gone out his body ; They oxtered him into the hallan, Then Jenny frae her bed cam' squallin', Tani eyed her hard, then gave a groan, Syne whisp'ring speered "If Nick was gone ? " Next morn they to the Priest did trot — They told him what a glifF they'd got. The Priest in meditation sicker, Speered "if the brute did gie a nicker?" "Na, na," quo' Tam, " it gae a rout ; " The Priest then cried, ** I've found it out — Your deil was nothing but a nowte." "A nowte?" quo' Tam, "say that again," For light cam' into Tammie's brain ; " Ye're right 1 " he cried, " 'tween me and you, It must hae been our Kyloe-coo." When Willy spoke a word to Nell, " I'll take the blame," she cried, " mysel' ...'S m fS if ^^ 24 A SABBATH MORNING IN SCOTLAND. For, whan my jo' cam' courtin' me, I e'en forgot to turn the key." Quo' Will, " my dear, to end the matter. The sooner that we're wed the better." Sweet Nellie blushed and syne consented. Then hame they a' gade weel contented ; And aye at night, 'tween you and me, Nell ne'er forgot to turn the key. • • m h Sabbath Morning in Scotland. Interibed to the Rev. yohn yenningt^ D. D., Toronto. \ M 111 m HE morning sun glints up ayont the hill; The misty clouds of morn have fled away, Calm is the pool, the sky serene and still. The lark, exultant, chants his early lay. The joyftil birds sing blythe upon the sprey, The wings of peace are spread o'er hill and lea, This is the sacred, holy Sabbath day. From toil, this mom, the husbandman is free, From bHssful rest he wakes, to bow to God the knee. His little bairnies start up one by one. They early learn to know the day of rest ; Wee Maggie asks if frock or bonnet's done ? They clamor to put on their Sunday's best ; The guidwife clasps her infant to her breast. Warns and commands the noisy to behave ; Wee Will tries on his new-made breeks and vest, He struts about the wonder o' the lave : 'Gainst pride, the guidman speaks, wi' looks demure and grave. A SABBATH MORNING IN SCOTLAND. 25 He fondly takes his Willy by the hand, And aff they gang to dander round aboot, To see, perhaps, if dyke or palling stand, Or if the wheat or oats begin to shoot ; . The kye frae foggage field ha'e broken out, His collie dog soon answers to his ca'; He pulls a turnip and cuts off the root. Wee Willy kens the way to wring the shaw, He sits and glow'rs and eats while daddie mends the flaw. Adown the bank they ca' the sheep and kye To where the bumie laves out owre the rocks ; Syne hameward 'cross the bonnie brig o' Dye, Where weeping willows wave their silv'ry locks. High on the tree the raven hoarsely croaks, The lintie sings among the heath'ry braes ; The herds ha'e turned and gathered in their flocks — Baith hind and herd respect the day o' days — From lowly shiel and cot ascends the song of praise. At hame, our guidwife lights the kitchen fire, And soon the kettle's hissing on the grate, The cow's been milked and turned frae the byre. Now milk and porridge fill baith bowl and plate. The chairs are set — the bairns wi' look sedate. Afore the porridge cool wad fain begin ; The grace is said — they now nae langer wait ; The guidwife cries, '' it is a perfect sin To see the milk and porridge down Will's apron rin 1 " The horn spoons, at length, aside are laid, Now to the door the bairns fain wad steal, To gang thereout the boldest is afraid — Their questions they maun learn and answer weal : The auld kirk bell sets up a solemn peal, The cry is heard, " Auld John is at the tow I " Around the house wi' bairns at her heel — The guidwife's wits and hands are eident now, She washes rosy face, and kames the curly pow. V ^« I II ■Hi V : r* T ■ i.: ■ -M ■ ,^ 1 . -*r 1 'I. ■■■^ . ♦•* -r-l • ■ia ■^* ^ i 26 A SABBATH MORNING IN SCOTLAND. Their bonnie Jessie, unco shy and blate, Comes ben the house dress'd wi' a braw new goon, The guidman says, " 'twad e'en tak' an estate. To keep ye a' in meat and claes and shoon." The guidwife cries, " come hurry, ye'U be late I Sic moping bairns Tm sure I never saw, See ! there's your pennies for the poor folk's plate" — The Book o' Books she hands to grit and sma' ; Fain is her heart to see them look sae weal and braw. Now doAMi the garden walk sweet Jessie goes — She trips sae lightly o'er the grassy knoll. The scented spearmint pulls and budding rose. She twines them baith in Willie's button-hole. The clinking bell at last has ceased to toll. They hurry aff and gain the kirk-yard road : See ! up the brae yon poor auld bodies toil Oppressed wi' age and care — a weary load — And now, baith auld and young have reached the house of God. Land of my fathers — of the brave and free ! Land where the God of heaven is ador'd ! Land where the patriots humbly bow'd the knee — Then rose to wave the Standard of the Lord 1 My heart, O Scotland I from its inmost chord, With kindly wishes beats for thee and thine ; j O ! may thy bams with plenty aye be stor'd. And freedom's sun forever on thee shine — Still may your "shield" be Christ, your "buckler" God divine 1 TO JAMES MCKAY, ESQ. 27 r' To James McKat, Et;q^, pETROiT. Sir— Sarnioj Ont.y August 18, 1 87 1, [his evening at the gloamin' grey, I gat your letter, James McKay, And glad was I to hear ye say — And proud to know it, — That ye're a' 'in the ordinar' way About Detroit. Whan next that ye take up the pen. There's ae thing I would like to ken, If ye ha'e won that bonnie hen — That lassie braw. To guide the but and grace the ben In your bit ha'. I mind it weel — 'fore I was wed, An unco weary life I led. Groaning and giming on my bed, Wi' lonesome moan ; Sae soon's I to the altar sped. Whiff ! Care was gone ! Afore, rd wander 'bout the braes, A' nature then seemed sour as slaes. Then down I'd sit as in a maze. Aside the bum. And on the winding waters gaze, And sigh and mourn ! K - ■4 <% ■ it Aw 9 aS TO JAMES MCKAY, ESQ. '11: i'W: I'd watch a' nature filled wi' glee — The lammies sporting on the lea. The birdies whistling on the tree, Their tender strain ; I didna ken, 'tween you and me, What gar'd me grane ! Ae night I warsried 'mang the ferns. And tossed amang the whins and birns, And tald my woes e'en to the stems, Wi' gruesome croaks, That scared to death the lang leg'd herons Amang the rocks ! I growled against my low estate, I envied sair the rich and great, Till Nature cried : " Man, get a mate, And a bit housie." Sae faith ! ae night I up the gate. And spak' for Lucy ! Hope's tender bud began to grow. The light o' love began to lowe, Losh, Jemmy ! if ye saw me now Midst bliss supreme ! Stand clear! five bairns I ha'e in tow Upon life's stream. I'm getting unco auld and stiff, And glow'ring ower life's dreary cliff ; 'Twill no be lang or I play whiff, And close my e'en, And sail awa in death's dark skiff To the unseen. Yet still I needna grunt and grane, I'm no just in the warld alane, I've wife and bairns to ca' my ain — And when I dee Nae stranger cauld wi' heart o' stane Will close my e'e ! that's but nat'ral. ^1 29 Now, Jemmy ! tak' ye tent, my man, And try the matrimonial plan ; Remember ! life is but a span ; I speak ye fair — Just buckle hard and fast to Nan For evermair ! Wi' a' your might tak' my example, Upon your "whys" and "wherefores" trample, Just get a wife and raise a sample O' young McKays ; They'll be, nae doubt, a comfort ample In your auld days. Remember me, then, to your Nan, And kind regards to Bannerman, And tell the "Major" 'bout the plan That he maun mak'. Should death no flash in my bread-pan I'll soon be back. ^/ THAT'S BUT NaT'RAL. Inscribed to Duncan Campbtlly Esj., a natural born Pott. '0» It •^^*- L .^( ?V •• I '^. «: 4 * ' :■ Si ■■4 ^M •^•> J^' ■/> m i >^s.- «< ¥'^ ■ /%. ;*"!^ .^ '.r '«.•■'... ■.•*:: ■ :« -' ^, "■♦-V- .: .t^. ■ <^^ '^ ,^ m "t::-^ .;''^ M -,«V 'J^*-^ m !<■ '^•■H* ■'I ih« '.%» "*; '•.y ■•« •.»J 32 A KITTLIN CLATTER. A KiTTLIN CLATTEI^i Inurihed to JVm. Barclay^ Etf, >i li'i .S i; i Come to my hand, my wee bit pussie, Ye aiblins soon will catch a mousie, An' now, sae lang's I ha'e a housie Out owre my head, Your birses in a plate ye'll souse aye, 'Mang milk an' bread. Ye're mair contented than your maister, Wha still maun pingle, darg, and pester, Although Dame Fortune aft he's chas'd her, Baith e're and late, The slippery jade, he's ne'er caress'd her — E'en to this date ! Soon I maun jouk 'neath death's dark wave. Soon wintry blasts will owre me rave ; Will ye come mewin' to my grave, My wee bit pet ? Or will ye just be like the lave, An' soon forget? • ■ • t.-^i Ye Ballad op Jeanie Johnston. IJOW Tibbie Johnston's daughter Gaed doon the burn-brae, ^ And she sat doon upon the bank, Amang the new mawn hay. 'Twas autumn, and the golden sun Shone bright o'er hill and dale, But the cheek o' Jeanie Johnston Was unco wan and pale. iii YE BALLAD OF JEANIE JOHNSTON. 35 The stream o' Watch ran wimplin' clear, The lambs danced on the lea, The lark sang blythesome i' the lift, The shillfa on the tree. The swallow skimm'd the glassy pool, The bees humm'd to and fro, But the heart o' Jeanie Johnston Was filled wi' mickle woe. Now up the haugh there cam' a lad, His name was John McBride, And he sat doon amang the hay By Jeanie Johnston's side. She turned away her head and said, " O ! gang awa frae me, For you must know it soon as syne Your bride I canna be ! " Now he has said " O ! Jeanie dear, My love, my joy, my a', I little dream'd frae your sweet lips Such heartless words would fa' ! " Last night, O ! Jeanie Johnston, Last night, no further gane. Did ye no vow doon 'mang the birks That ye wad be my ain ? " " Last night when I gade hame, John, My mother ca'd me ben, And she did say, * where ha'e ye been I e'en wad like to ken ? ' ** * This precious moment tell the truth, Or dearly ye will rue.' I hung my head and oh ! I said That I had been wi' you ! <■' •♦»• N ''^* ^1 ♦1^ 3« YE BALLAD OF JEANIE JOHNSTON. ' 111' ■ i « r lir «* , I I .;. i " My mother's face gat red wi' rage, Her eyes she opened wide, And then she cried * ye ne'er shall be A wife to John McBride 1 ' " * For I have got for you a man, His name is John McFee, And ere a month flies o'er your head His chosen bride you'll be ! ' " She shook her finger and she said, * Of John McBride beware'. And then my tears cam' rowin' doon> And Oh ! my heart is sair ! " Now John McBride rose to his feet. An angry lad was he, And he did swear he'd be the death — The death o' John McFee ! Then up rose Jeanie Johnston, And she spoke with a will. And she did cry ** for mercy's sake His heart's blood do not spill I " 'Tis better far to dree our weird. And with this plan agree — That you will wed some other maid> And I'll wed John McFee ! " He heard her words, he lifeless fell Down by th e water side, In agony she cried : ** I've been The death of John McBride » Now she ran to the running stream^ She ran with rapid pace, And with her hands the water scoop'd And laved it on his face. ! I YE BALLAD OF JEANIE JOHNSTON. 37 And soon he open'd up his eyes, And when a breath he drew, She cried " Oh live! Oh ! live for me And I will live for you ! " The rosy ^-ed came to his cheek And joy lit up his e'e, And thus he spoke, **0 ! Jeanie swear. You'll ne'er wed John McFee ! " Then she exclaimed '* I here affirm. Whatever may betide. That no man born I'll ever wed But thee, my John McBride ! " As thus they stood beside the burn, O ! what was their dismay. When Tibbie Johnston like a wraith, Cam' bleezing doon the brae. When she approach'd she cried " woe ! woe ! Oh ! what is this I see, Ye jade ! did I not say last night Ye must wed John McFee ? " Now John McBride edged cannie up, And meek and mim look'd at her ; Then said, " Oh ! Tibbie, gi'e consent, That I may wed your daughter. " I ha'e a house and weel filled byre. Sax chairs and muckle table, A pat, a pan, a guid peat-stack, A trencher and a ladle ! " Soon Tibbie Johnson ga'o consent. Soon to the kirk they ride. And Jeanie Johnston now is won. And wed to John McBride ! nt : -.4! ■'A ;n-. .'^-^ '.5 ■ i •• i u w 1 ■M m 1. ■^> 1: III i; ^j 38 SCOTTISH SANGS. When John McFee did hear the news, He snuffed and gave a sneeze, Then he lay down upon his back, And died of heart disease ! Now all ye lovers far and near, Take warning from this story, Though sweethearts may say "nay" to-day, They might say " yes " to-morrow. »•♦■■ Scottish Sangs. J jJ^UIDMAN ! losh, I wish ye were through wi' your havers, About your auld sangs an' your clashes and clavers, ^ The floor is to scour and the scones are to bake, ^ The stove is to brush and the carpet to shake ; An' still ye will sit, losh ! just hear to the coo, An' the cacklin' hens and the famishin' soo ; A man sic as you, I'rn sure never was bom ; Hurry out ! or the brutes will be dead ere the mom. ** I've your trousers to mend and your stockin's to dern, An' ten hanks o' thread to row up on a pirn, /The woo is to card, and the thmms are to reel, j I've the 'taties to wash and the ingans to peel, "^The kinlin's to split, and the wood's to be saw'd, An' water — sax stoups, — frae the well maun be draw^d. The claes are a' dirty, and as sure as ye're bom, The washin' I canna pit aff till the mom. " Hech me ! can ye no gang an' foother the coo, And tak out some meat to the hens and the soo; The beds are to mak' an' the dishes to wash. An' still 'bout your sangs ye will claver and clash. THE DIALOGUE OF THE BREEKS. 39 Gif ye no gang awa, and look to the horse, As sure as I live I'll get out a divorce ! Gang awa ! I'll come clank owre your head wi' the tangs; Gif I hear ony mair 'bout your ballads and sangs." "Guid wife! losh, I hear ilka word that ye say, But I trow ye maun try to excuse me the day, Frae Job ye maun strive a bit lesson to learn, For I'm aff and awa to hear Angus Fairbairn." " Guid man, will ye tak me ? losh ! ma head's in a creel^ But the coo and the soo may baith roar like the did, I'll soon kame ma hair and throw on ma gown, Ma shawl and ma bonner wi' lace on the croon. Come, now, let's awa ! lock the door — tak the keys ** — And aff the twa gade just as brisk as twa bees. And, aye they did say, as they hurried alang, " There's naething sae sweet as an auld Scottish sang.** • • • The Dialogue of the Breeks. I E morn, as I lay dowie on my back, Twa pair o' breeks did thus begin to crack : AULD BREEKS. "Aye ! there ye hing my braw new winsome kimmer^ As proud as ony butterfly in simmer ! Ye look sae trim and trig and unco neat, I doubt ye'll burst wi' even-doon conceit ; Ye're ironed up, ye shaw nae speck or flaw. Your coat is glossy and as black's a craw ; O' your brass buttons ye may weel think muckle. And eke o' that new-fangl'd big horse buckle ; But hooly lad ! when ye're as auld as me, Ye'll no be just sae pleasing to the e'e, 4 Alii if ,v-^ 4« '■*»■ J ;.#* ' 'J^^ -J i?lM^. 40 THE DIALOGUE OF THE BREEKS. Your steeks will here and there be rippit out, And baith your knees be plaster'd wi' a cloot ; There is a proverb which I've heard folk say That aye comes true, " ilk dog will ha'e his day." The laughing-stock ye'll be baith far and wide, If ye no strive to burke your pensy pride ! Ye senseless thing ! ye needna thraw your mouth. When ye ha'e tint the spring-tide o' your youth, Ye'll mind my words, and then my faith will ye No geek wi' disrespect on sic as me ! " 1 15! I" NEW BREEKS. " Ye antiquated auld mis-shapen rag, How dare ye open out your blusterin' brag ? Ye're wither'd up just like an autumn docken. Yet still your havers are a wee provokin'; The like o' you to open up your mouth And speak to me is impudence forsooth ! Ye're just a thread-bare, worn out worthless carl, Wi' sic as you I no design to quarrel, *Twill no be lang I need to thole your clack ; Ye'll soon be rowed and tumbled in a sack — Sent to the mill wi' some auld raggit body. And be ripp'd up and workit into shoddy ; Or aiblins yet may hing on broker's pegs. To be ta'en doon to deck some beggar's legs." AULD BREEKS. ** Ye brainless birkie, when like me ye're auld, And a' your steeks are open to the cauld, Ye'll change your tune — ye'll no sae crousely craw, For pride like yours I trow will get a fa' ; Some cleek or pike may rive ye on the knee, Or some mischanter hap ye canna see : Though youth is on your side, yet aft I've seen The bitter tear row doon frae youthfu' e'en; h;:ll*ii •lltij, THE DIALOGUE OF THE BREEKS. 41 This warld's strange, ye dmna ken the snares That lurk in sofas, stools and sitting chairs; Sae hold your whisht, although ye're young and stout^ I yet wi' you might see my day aboot." NEW BREEKS " Though ye have ae leg hangin' in the grave, Yet how ye haver, how ye rant and rave ! Since Wilson shaped and dipt me wi' his shears, My days seem weeks, my weeks appear as years ; Sae I will dance, and crousely I'll be singin', Sae lang's a button on my waist band's hingin' ! As for the future, I'll no care a flee; The f-iture no concerns the like o' me !" AULD BREEKS. " I was nae worthless guid-for-nothing drab, When Common dipt me frae a braw new wab, He stitched me up wi' monie carefu' steeks, My goodness ! then I was a pair o' breeks, And for a while was like a welcome stranger, Made muckle o', and lived at heck and manger. For weeks and months my master took guid care Frae barkin' dogs and gutters to beware ; And aye at night the stour frae me he whisket. E're he drew blanket up aboon his brisket ; And wlien he gaed his winsome lass to see, She sat sae cosh contented on his knee ; And ance I heard her sae, I do declare, "That his braw breeks just fitted to a hair." And weel I mind when on Belle Island's banks, The twa sat doon to rest awhile their shanks ; The birdies blythesome on the trees were singin', The bonnie flowers frae monie a stem were hingin', My masters heart was light, and he did croon A stave or twa o' some auld Scottish tune ; •s.^ ^ 4' f£^^ > ^^■'^ 'W^:! .^.^■'1 J' -i^-'l M .e .Si yw Lit I 42 THE DIALOGUE OF THE BREEKS. His sweetheart laughed and said, " to hear your rants Ye seem upHfted wi' your braw new pants." My master said, and faith he kissed her mou', " I'm proud o' them, but far mair proud o' you ! * Now when the twa were yok'd in wedlock's traces, I was the breeks that hung upon his braces ; And 'fore their first wee bairnie saw the light, And when our master in the depths o' night Ran for the howdy — New Breeks, understand I was the breeks cam' readiest to his hand ! 'Gainst wind and water gae my best resistance, And can look back on a weel spent existence." i NEW BREEKS. *' Tuts ! ye auld gomeril, now just baud ye there, 'Bout your auld ways I neither ken nor care ; My master frae his bed will soon be birrlin', And unco quick he will redd out our quarr'Hn', And sure am I 'twas you that raised the shindie, And for your pains he'll throw ye out the window." AULD BREEKS. *' Ye gowk ! ye should be wallop'd wi' a rung ; Mair mense and manners then wad rule your tongue ! In bygone days wisdom we learned to prize ; These days seem gone — the bairns are born wise ! The auld and frail are seldom now respected — They're cuffed aboot, and live and die neglected. 'Gain I had strength I'd gie ye sic a lounder, As lay ye at my feet as flat's a flounder ! '* Now frae his bed the bard did slowly rise, He gaped awhile, and then he rubbed his eyes, And thus he spoke: '* I've hearken'd your palaver, Auld Breeks, ye yet stand tapmaist in my favor, Ye've served me weel — ye've been the wale o' claes, I'll e'en no cast ye off in your auld days ; Ml ■^i?*^! s, CALEDONIAN GAMES ON BELLE LSLE. 43 When folk grow auld they easy get bamboozird, And tak' a tiff whene'er their temper's tousil'd, But a kind look or canty word address'd, Aye cheers their heart and mak's them cock their crest. And now, New Breeks, I hope ye'll ne'er neglect, To speak to Aulder Breeks wi' due respect" MORAL. Now bairns, tak' tent, be sure ye dinna fail, To catch the heft and moral o' my tale. Example take from him who did " engage To rock the cradle of declining age.' • > • P ALEDONIAN LrAMES ELLE SLE. Games on Belle J Inscribed to J. B- JVilsoriy Etq, For the better undergtanding of the following rhyme, it is thought necessary to state that " Hog Island " is situated a short distance up the river from Detroit ; that the gentlemen named are respected and prom- inent members of the Caledonian Club of Detroit ; and that they went to the island on a certain day for the purpose of making necessary preparations for the annual games. HERE was Andrew and Johnnie and Willy, And Davie — a comical dog — And a Jedburgh chap they ca' Robin, Sailed awa' to the Island of Hog. When into the boat they were sittin'. Quo' Davie, " Bob, feather your oar," Syne they dashed and they slashed up the river, To the tune of " Lochaber no more." And aye they gaed plowin' and rowin', Hech ! how they gaed sweetin' and reekin', Awa' to the Island of Hog. 1^ V Hi . M '^ 'If'- i •'*^ • ^^ ,(' "'V I .v: 4 mi* t • i 44 CALEDONIAN GAMES ON DELLE ISLE. i: m Quo' Johnnie to Willy, " Come, Willy, Do sing us the * Wee Pickle Tow,' " "Just sing it yersel'," answered Willy, " Or I'll gar ye play bum o'er the bow." Quo' Robin, " The first man that quarrels, Wi' this oar I'll play crack on his croon, Sae steek up your lip, neighbor Willy, And Johnnie, ye Kirk Yetholm loon." And aye they gaed jawin' and blawin', Losh ! how they gaed barkin' and bitin' Awa' to the Island of Hog. When on to the island they jumpit. The boat to a tree they did tie, Quo' Davie, " I'd herrin' for supper. This momin* I feel unco dry." He claw'd at his head like a harrow. Then out from his pouches did draw A bottle o* Hielan' Glendronach, And a mutchkin o' real usqueba. And syne they sat girnin' and laughin', Gosh ! how they sat puffin' and smokin*, Awa* on the Island of Hog! And when they a' got a bit toothfu'. And when the drink got to their wames, Quo' Andrew, " Come, freens, let us dander. And look at the grund for the games." Then awa through the woods they gaed laughin*. And when they got up to the place, Quo' Robin to Willy, " Come, Willy, Losh, man, I will try ye a race." And soon they gaed sprachlin' and rinnin*, Wow ! how they gaed pechin* an' bleezin' Awa* on the Island of Hog ! 41 I'll race ye and beat ye," quo' Willy, Then awa' o'er the green they did loup, CALEDONIAN GAMES ON BELLK ISI.F. 45 But Willy played clank on his stomach, And Robin fell down on his doup, Then they leugh till their sides were near burstin'. ^^uo' Robin, " My nose I ha*e bled ; " Quo' Johnnie, " Come, Robin, get up, man, Did ye think ye was gaein to bed ?" And sair they gaed whummlin' and tumblin'. Bang ! how they went clitin' and scraughin', Awa' on the Island of Hog ! And now they began to the wrestlin', Sair, hard were their tussles and rugs, At the links o' the neck and the brisket, At shoulder-blades, hatRts and lugs. How teughly they stuck to the business. For the feck o' a couple o' hours. Till their claes just in ribbons were hangin'. And their banes were a covered wi' clours. And aye they gaed gripin' and ripin', Haith ! how they gaed skitin' and slippin', Awa' on the Island of Hog ! By this they were a' gettin' roupit, Wi' a drappie their gizzards did slake, Then Dave round his head swung the hammer — Wi' a bang baith gaed clash in the lake ! Then Andrew began to the puttin', Slick ! the stane to his shouther did raise. But it slippit somehow frae his clutches. And cam' yerk on the end o' his taes! And aye they gaed dreepin' and creepin', Wow ! how they gaed dragglin' and limpin', Awa' on the Island of Hog ! And syne they began to the jumpin', Dave lap like a hen aff her eggs ; Then Andrew cried, "Jo^^"ie> loo^ ^t me,'' Ga'e a spring and maist broke baith his legs. ■ * mF M m ..s; •» A*l' 4 .»i^«L ii ■■:.* ' '-Ma. < 'i'*t * Jff s 46 CALEDONIAN GAMES ON BELLE ISLE. And next they began to play quoits, Jock's quoit gaed clean aff the track, It gaed up in the air like a feather. Then cam' down upon Jedburgh's back. And still they went flingin' and ringin' My ! how they gaed backin' and whackin', Awa' on the Island of Hog ! On receipt o' the knock Robin loupit, Syne roared like a mad parish bull, " Haud your tongue, man ; keep still, man," quo' Davie, " And be thankfu' it's no' split your skull." Quo, Andrew, " I think we'll be gaein', Wi' terror my very heart's filled ; If we stay ony langer I'm fearin' Ilka soul o' us a' will be killed." And oh ! they stood whingin' and gruin', Man ! how they stood glaikin' and glunchin', Awa' on the Island of Hog ! " Losh ! Andrew, ye're right, man," quo' Davie ; " My very heart's blood's on the shiver, For somehow I canna help thinkin' We're sure to be drowned in the river;" Yet ilka ane swore to the ither, Afore they gaed aff to their hames, That they'd try hard and sair to do better At the Grand Caledonian Games. Then hame they cam' thuddin' and scuddin', Hech ! how they cam' swearin' and tearin', Awa' frae the Island of Hog 1 .i ©> Will A lad The J An' Whai I cry The Nae Aside Thou Attir Forti Last As su I too I e'en When I see A PASTORAL. 47 A Pastoral, Wl^TTEN ON THE OCCASION OF ^AMES J^ORSYTH, ^SC^, LEAVING pETROIT, J^EBF^UARY 1ST, 187I. ^nwRCHY — "Come, Willy man, come in and sup some ^H) drammack, HOW And tell us a' the news aboot Hamtramack : % Has your guidwife gat hale and weel and canty ? Does still the ague hing aboot your Aunty ? Has Jean Galbraith gat buckled to Tam Cleaver? I hope the bairns ha'e no the scarlet fever ! Ye look sae dowff, sae dowie and downcast, Ye look like ane that hasna' broke his fast, Ye look like ane dumfounder'd wi' despair ! Come man, sit down and tell us a' your care." Willy — " I weel I wat, I do feel unco wae ! A lade o' grief hangs owre me night and day — The smell o' parritch fairly maks me scunner. An' the guid wife, as sure as death I shun her ; Whan e'en the bairns come climbin' on my knee, I cry 'get aff ! for guid sake let me be.' The guidwife tries her best to ease me care — Nae words can calm the bosom o' despair ; Aside the fire I sit and sigh and grane, Though weel I ken my grief is a' in vain. At times I tak' a dander doon the yard. For the bit flowers I've now lost a' regard ; Last week I had some apple shoots to graft — As sure's I live I think I'm gaein daft — I took the shoots and midst my granes and grunts, I e'en did graft them on some auld kail runts ! Where bonnie flowers did spring the weeds now grow ; I see the weeds — I stand and claw my pow ; ( if*: i\ r4 'y* 1 1 '*- '*"■ 1* /,■ • M ^ m 48 A PASTOR AI,. I I canna use the spade to delve or dig — My pruning knife ne'er sneds the useless twig ; The watering pan beneath the willows lie — The flowers hang down their heads and fade and die ; The sangs o' birds did ance my bosom cheer, Their notes now fa' in discord on my ear." Archy — " For mercy's sake what's wrang — ha'e ye the ague? Or worse than that, ha'e ye gat the lumbago ? " Willy — " O ! Archy man ! I'm unco laith to say, Our bosom friend — our Jamie's gaun away. I've kent him lang — he aye was true as steel ; There's nane can ken the bitter grief I feel ; There's few can ken how ill it is to part Frae him we love — the brother o' our heart." '^ H H W 1 M H 'M VV Ar Wi Th( 'Ai Archy — " Preserve us a' ! is Jamie gaun to leave? There's mair than you wi' bitter grief will grieve ; He aye was kind — sae gentle and sae mild — An honest man — a sage — at heart a child, No words were his of selfishness or cant ; His purse was open to his friends in want ; If want or woe his fellow mortal griev'd, His heart responded and his hand reliev'd. In learning, we maun own he is our daddie. He's just a kind o' walkin* Cyclopaedia ; He's read the works o' Reid and famous Locke, He kens the law frae Lyttleton and Coke ; Can gie ye screeds frae Bums and Scott and Brown, And Rhymer Tam wha lived in Ercildown ; He glories in the fame, the works and style C that great thinker they ca' Tam Carlyle. I weel I wat his life has no been idle, But best o' a' he ne'er forgot his Bible. O ! doleful hour ! O melancholy day. We'll hae nae joy when Jamie gang's away ! " % c !■ LAMKNTATION FOR MIKK (WI.F, 49 Willy — "Where'er he gangs, I'm sure I wish him weel, 'Midst a' his care, he was a canty chiel*. His head is crammed wi' wisdom and wi' lair, He rose victorious o'er the word ' despair.' When he's awa, where'er his lot be cast, 1 fondly trust his cares will a' blaw past. May health and plenty cheer his ain fireside — His wife and son, his comfort and his pride ; 'Mang men o' worth, in the first rank we class him — Where'er he bides, may (iod forever bless him." Archy — "Thae's bonnie words, I'm sure ye speak them true. Will ye no tak a dram to vveet your mou ? The back unto the burden we maun bend, 'And mak the best o' what we canna mend.' " ■■»♦■«- Lamentation fof^ ^ike Gill. A CELEBRATED PLAtER ON THE UNION PIPES. Respectfully inscribed to the Hon. Wm. Adair. ETROIT folks are drown'd in woe, Down o'er their cheeks the salt tears flow, Death e'en has dealt an unco blow, And frae us ta'en A man who never had a foe — Mike Gill is gane. We kent poor Mike for monie a year — His sterling worth demands a tear, Upon this earth he had nae peer — He stood alane; We weel may wail beside the bier O' him that's gane ! 4 o.. in* ' * • C . V ^ f ^ *iii«* M "*• ^ •j,.. -»*• 50 LAMFNTATION FOR MIKE GILL. When nights got lang, and folk got douce, When Mike cam' in, we soon got crouse, Baith glee and gladness were let loose — We were sae fain ; But grief now reigns in every house Since Mike is gane ! The auld folk liked him unco weel, The young folk followed at his heel, The lasses aften filled his creel Wi' beef and bane ; But now he's gat his hinmost meal — Alas ! he's gane ! When marching 'neath the Stars and Stripes, 'Twas grand to hear him blaw the pipes ; Now printers, sobbing, set the types, Wi' grief and pain ; Het, waesome tears the Bard now wipes For him that's gane ! We weel may sit about the burn, And in dark glens and valleys mourn. And ilka kind o' comfort scorn, Wi' goustie mane ; Alas ! alas ! he'll ne'er return — He's ever gane ! His pipes ha'e gien their lang, last hum. Again we'll never hear them bum. They're hanging now ayont the lum On their bit chain ; Their breath has fled, alas ! they're dumb — Like him wha's gane ! For guidsake ne'er let Barclay know That Mike lies cauld and stiff below, Poor man ! he'd ne'er get o'er the blow — He'd break life's chain, Or, chew for aye the cud o' woe For him that's gane ! LAMENTATION FOR MIKK (ill.I,. 51 When Mike play'd up an Irish reel, We neither minded maut or meal, But up and down, and round we'd wheel, And plunge and strain ; Now in the ranks o' grief we S(iueel Since he is gane ! When Johnston frae toon lots would part, He aye set Mike up in a cart, 'Twas then we heard the minstrel's art And canty strain ; He'll ne'er blaw mair at wake or mart — Alack ! he's gane. He ne'er was known to hum and look And glow'r upon a music-book, But just sit smiling in the nook, And drink a drain ; Ae finger had the crotchet crook On him that's gane. When he was cuffed about wi' care, He took a dram and whiles took mair, But never fell frae aff a chair Wi' drunken grane ; Now frae the roots we rive our hair — Woe's me ! he's gane. Ae night he cam' fu' crouse and trig. To play us up a blythesome jig. But oh ! he gat an unco dig — It soon was plain That he had crossed death's dismal brig — He's gane ! he's gane ! The doctors round about him press'd, They laid their ear upon his chest, They placed their fingers on his wrist, And jug'lar vein : But Mike did never cock his crest. For he was gane ! <4 V. t» J--, "' ^"^ ,« • '•^ vr* r^ S 53 FOLK SHOULD AYE BE EQUAL YOKIT. P' '^^ Down where the weeping willows wave James Sutherland has filled Mike's grave, And at his feet has set a stave, At's head a stane. Which tells McGraw and a' the lave That Mike is gane ! We trace Mike's faults to Adam's fa' — Mike had some faults, but they were sma'- His virtues overtopped them a', I here maintain, And hope the Union Pipes he'll blaw, Where'er he's gane ! • » • Folk should aye be E^ual Yokit. Inscribed to C. Taylor^ Esq. Sarniay Ont. "f' ^ULD Scotland ! loud I sing your praise. Your honest men and wives sae gawsie. May they aye walk in wisdom's ways. And keep the cantle o' the causey ! May peace and plenty be their lot — Contented wi' guid brose and parritch, And still on Sundays boil the pot. And ne'er forget their single carritch ! Auld Scotland, ye're a stalwart chield ! The Southern foe could never whang ye, Faith ! set ye on the fighting field. The very deevil couldna bang ye ! I '1 "] Si SI A^ ^ FOLK SHOULD AYE BE EQUAL YOKIT. 55 May a' your bairns be aye discreet, Ha'e a clean sark and Sunday jackit, Sair ! sair, the bard wad roar and greet Should Scotia's bairns be disrespekit ! Her bonnie lasses ! guid keep me, They've led me monie a weary bratde, Scouring at night o'er moor and lea, And swarfing sair the out door cattle. Ae back-end night, O ! hech how me, I gat a mair than ordinar' fright ; Until the very day I dee, I'll ne'er forget that unco night. On the har'st-rig I shore wi' ane — Her maiden name was Nellie Martin ; Love, feverish love, on me struck in. And Nell and I began the courtin'. She had a waist sae jimp and sma', And when she smiled she looked sae bonnie, And then her lips, preserve as a* — They were as sweet as heather honey ! How grand ! how lovely was her face, A perfect heaven was in her e'e ! To crown her channs she had a grace That played the deil wi' mair than me ! 'Twas aughteen years, no ae day mair. Since first she gave her infant cry — She cam' just at the Lammas fair. As Session Records testify. She lived sax miles cut ower the bent, At a bit house ayont the glen ; Ae night I couldna stay content, I fain wad see my bonnie hen ! ■) 4 * 71" . fit. 54 FOLK SHOULD AYE BE EQUAL YOKIT. « V,. I sleely stole aff like a mouse. And o'er the moor I soon gaed scrievin' ; The clouds by this had broken loose — The winds blew out the lights o' heaven I I gropit o'er the auld wood brig. Got through the birks and past the rashes ; Without a'e lee, whan at Whinrig, Losh ! I began to ban the lasses ! The lightnings leaped across the sky, I lap out o'er stone dykes and fences ; I thought I heard the kelpies cry — "That gouk has surely tint his senses.'^ At times I swat wi' downright dread, And ance I foundered 'mang the glaur ; As forth I gade wi' swirlin' speed I headlang plunged out o'er a scaur ! Hech me ! thought I, I'm done for noo, My heart-strings gae an unco pull. Fear jumpit down my very mou, Syne struck the keybone o' my skull ! I hae had monie an unco fright, But a' the frights that e'er I got Are nothing to that desperate night, As down that fearfu' gulph I shot ! Oh ! Nellie, in my hours of ease I've worshiped e'en your very locks, I little dreamed through space I'd bleeze. And kill mysel' 'mang stanes and rocks ! I thought on Nellie's lock o' hair, That o'er my throbbing bosom hung, I tried to roar, but in the air Fear shut the hinges o' my tongue ! FOLK SHOULD AYE BE EQUAL YOKIT. 55 As down and down and down I fell, A pleasing notion filled my head, Wi' my last breath to cry on Nell, Syne close my eyes amang the dead. An unco job I had to land, Mang whins, and sheep, and muckle stanes, Dumfounder'd ! I cam' to a stand That jumbled up my very brains. That night I could not see my Nell — For broken collar banes and legs ; At length I gave a dismal yell That echoed 'mang the hills and craigs I The coward sheep scoured to the hills. The foxes to their holes ran rife, The cattle turned up their tails And fled as if for very life ! The corbies croaked out o*er my head, Nae doubt expecting my last groan, And other brutes famed for their greed. Cam' out to see what was gaun on. And there I lay, and gimed and grat, With agony my thoughts ran wild, Aye ! there I lay, I weel I wat, As helpless as a little child. Next morn, the wind had blawn its warst. When Tam-the-herd cam' to me hotchin', He leugh till he was like to burst — Syne speered "gif I was at the poachin'." " Na ! na ! " quo' I, " Tam get a cart— For ance ye're fairly aff your eggs ; I doubt I've broken Nellie's heart; Forby ma collar banes, and legs." 4{| I } '*C'^ jJL '■ j H. '•'J I m I ; liHl ?»'! r I?! . 56 FOLK SHOULD AYE BE EQUAL YOKIT. Tam ran to get a horse and cart, I thought 'mang men he was the marrow ; A clud o' grief cam' ower my heart, As back he dash'd wi' a wheelbarrow. He trailed me in, he wheeled and wheel'd, Ungratefu' like I did abhor him ; Though Tam was a lang winded chield, For ance he had his wark afore him. He pushed and wheeled and better wheel'd. At ilka jolt my banes did harrow, 'I Vice o'er he stagger'd — thrice he reel'd, And sent me headlang out the barrow ! We laired and founder'd in a bog, And oh ! an unco job had Tam, He swore against his collie dog, And ance he prayed and sung a psalm. Wi' sair ado he gat me hame He wheeled iDe up to the bed-stok, Quo' he, " I am baith tired and lame, Wi' hurling you since four o'clock ! " Gif e'er ye gang that gate again, May I be whipit, hanged or shot, By day or night, in wind or rain, Ye'll lie for me until ye rot." My grannie cried wi' accents wild, " What's that ye've brought wi' sic a hurl ? " Quo' Tam, " it is your ain grandchild I'm posting to the other warl'." Nine weeks I lay upon my bed. Death like a herd did on me whistle ; And in that t^me my Nell got wed To an auld sumph ca'd Patie Russell ! ROB TROTTERS GIMMER. 57 Ah ! Nell, ah ! Nell, ye ne'er can ken What I for jou ha'e had to suffer, But warst o' a' to caickle ben — Wi' that auld groaning, girning bufter. And yet, I still may crously era', That I fell through frae Nellie's chains ; She drives Pate's head against the wa', And kicks and scarts his very banes. Ae day she coursed him like a hare. She ran him round and round the stable. She just had breath and naething mair To knock him senseless wi' the paidle ! *Tvvas a' Pate's blame, the donnert fool, I wadna greet though he v/as chockit, I'm sure he might ha'e learned at school — That folk should aye be equal yokit. yV4 ■-..'t: I 1 H ^ • > • JlOB T ROTTER'S P IMMER. HE snaw lay braid-cast on the grund, I guess twal inches deep, When Robbie Trotter frae the hill Drove doon a flock o' sheep. As he cam' past Killpallet burn, The sky began a scowlin'. The feath'ry snaw began to fa'. The angry winds gaed howlin'. He had twa dogs, ane took the pet. And 'gan to whinge and whimple; Rob raised his cleek wi' a' his might And struck it on the rumple ! ^ .:■*<' "*'i^ ■^a^ bt ,1 U '- S8 ROB TROTTER S GIMMER. 11, ■ I* ' It ga'e a howl, sprang in the air, Then fell back fair confounded, It clapped its tail atween its legs. And ower the dyke it bounded ! Rob whistled on it loud and lang, And raised an unco racket. Then said, " the blasted brute's gane hame^ I hope the deil may tak' it." 'Mang blinding drift Rob did his best To keep his sheep in order, As he was bound by hook or crook To take them ower the border. Some o' the drove were yald and strong, And some were waff and worn out, And these, at times, frae holes and bogs He pulled by tail and horn out. When he gat to the Rinklaw-hill, He felt bumbazed and worret. And trowed that to his journey's end He never would win forrit. He glower'd whiles at his finger ends, To see if they were frozen. And whiles he'd raise his hand to feel If still remained his nose on. He thought upon the lass he lo'ed, Her face, her shape and carriage. Prospective bHss cheered up his heart, And freshen'd up his courage. The silv'ry moon frae 'mang the cluds Now got a kind o' clearance, Rob's heart grew light and then he said — ** There's nought like perseverance." Now when he gained the plantin' side, And cleared the Muirtoon entries, He smak'd his lips and thought 'bout bread, And yill fresh frae the gauntrees. ROB TROTTERS GIMMER. 59 Now at the tumin' o' the road There stood a house and stable ; The drifted snaw lay hard and fast Up to the very gable. The yauldest gimmers ga'e a spring, And left the waff ahint, And climbed the riggin' o' the house, Afore T' -^b Trotter kent. He g.v ver'; Ight up ! wi' a' i^s heart He stood and cursed their folly ; Then after them like fire he flew, Fast followed by his collie. Within the house wee Tailor Will Was thrang at his devotions, He lent his ear, and lo ! he heard Unearthly strange commotions. The blaain' o' the jumpin' sheep Did gar him stare wi' wonder, And when he heard Rob Trotter roar, His pulse struck 'yont the hunder. He grasped his Peggy by the hand, Laigh on his hunkers bended. Then yelled, " my day of grace is gone, My pilgrimage is ended ! " A lump o' soot fell doon the lum, And struck him on the ear, He keekit round, then cried, "by jing! Auld Nick will soon be here ! " He sprang wi' dread across the floor. Syne crawled aneath the table ; While to the aumry Peggy flew, And seized the 'tatie ladle ! -She swung it round and round her head, Then yelled, "Auld Nick ! by jimney, Ye'd better gang the road ye cam', And no come doon our chimney ! " . 'ft.' If V ; M ■!>•>•■ ■&... ■ •« ■ ■ n I 6o ROB trotter's GIMMER. ,.^ r-x-^ y i' A r ■ : 64 lO A. H. WING FIELD, i;.S(^. i 1 \ Thenjn the gladsome summer days rd wander 'mang the heath'ry braes, And hear the lark sing nature's praise Far up the sky: On fancy's wing my soul would gaze On heaven high ! Nature would guide my careless feet To where the blackbirds sang sae sweet ; For hours my heart with joy would beat To list their lay, Unmindful that the stars did greet The gloamin' grey. When darkness wrapt the mountain's head. And gloom o'er glen and valley spread. Then o'er me came an eerie dread — A nameless fear, A soul-commingling with the dead — A heaven near ! Wingfield ! my summer tide's awa, My autumn leaf begins to fa', And vulture death begins to gnaw And hover near. Yet still I'll rant and rhyme for a' Sae lang's Fm here. I hae nae wish to gather gear, My muse is a' my comfort here, My Pegasus is horse and meer. That heaven has sent, And while the beastie I can steer, Fll be content. Though grief has racked you to the core. Take up your harp — sing as in yore ; Ye still hae monie joys in store — I hope and pray That crape may ne'er hang on your door For monie a day ! HOHF.NWINPSOR. 65 HOHENWINDSOR. Inscribed to Jamex Fraser^ Esq, >N Windsor when the moon was high, When every throat was parchec' and dry, There rose to heaven a fearful cry — Of wild despair and agony. For Windsor saw a dreadful sight, A thunderbolt at dead of night Did smash the Windsor pump outright. And knocked it to eternity. Then rushed the matron and the maid, Then Fraser drew his battle blade, And Bartlett cried, " Go find a spade And dig my grave immediately. * Then Cameron raised a fearful wail. That shook the very Sandwich jail. When Black put on his coat of mail To fight with him mor * furiously ! The combat deepens ! blood and blows \ The claret flies from every nose, Far redder than the reddest rose That blooms in Dougall's nursery ! Few, few of them will see the morn. Far better had they ne*er been born. The scythe of death reaps them like corn, And grinds them in his granary ! ' A, n v*^, I'*' I 66 THE SCOTT CENTENARY. Weep, sun, in your triumphal car. May sackcloth hang from every star. May earthquakes rend the earth ajar, And mountains leap distractedly. The streets of Windsor reek with gore. The pump, alas ! has gone before ; Hang dismal grape on every door — And die in great perplexity ! m • The S COTT LENTENARY. Read at the Banquet y Russell House, Detroit , August 15, 187 1. \ ^ HUNDRED years have rolled away, This morn brought in the natal day Of one whose name shall live for aye. Beside the clear and winding Forth Was born the " Wizard of the North ;" The Muses circled round his bed, And placed their mark upon his head ; . And nature sang a grand refrain \ As Genius claimed his wondrous brain. For every bird in bush or brake. Beside the silv'ry stream or lake. Sang blythly on their leafy throne, \In honor of the " Great Unknown ! < , The Thistle raised its drooping head : { The lark forsook his heather bed, \ Shook from his wing the dew drop, moist. And on the golden rioud rejoic'd ; THE SCOTT CENTENARY. The classic Twepri f^„i The Yarrow srn'bvh'' l^ "'^ '^>'' And Ettrick danc'd^,n^°\^"'' '"•^«' The daisies bv A- '^°". '''" "'''>'• Smiled sweetlv,^.,"'^.''^' ^^"'' And wgged c^ ° '^% ''^^'her bells ; ^eXr'-^^et^^^^^^^ Hewro"eof^^^'°'"!"'^'«^ft'»e For God, for right anthbenyl'^ We see the beacon on the hill K^e^S:-'' no -Sis still, ^hes.ogf„?^-;Xttfard% The dm of battle and the cr^ '^^^' And died o/1^1oren?a:^t' He:"o'::;TL«eranr'^°/'-^'^M^^^ He lived the land ^h.''""P''"S ""^' Aiandbelo^roSreat^^^''- 67 •*£*■ f ». ' , <■# ■<^:;. 1^: ^ J X' 68 A PRECIOUS JEWEL. There stood the brave in weal or woe, Who never crouched to foreign foe — Who stood in battle like a rock, And snapped in twain the tyrant's yoke ! O ! Scotland, thou art dear to me ! Thou land of song and chivalry ! There Scott and Burns, and many more, Did pencil nature to the core — There Wallace held the foe in scofn, And Scotland lives in Bannockburn ! And every patriot, far or near, In foreign land, or Scotia dear. In castle proud, or lowly cot, Reveres the name of Walter Scott ! i '^■11 !' i • • • A Pi\Ecious Jewel. mi ' i Inscribed to IV, JVanUsSy Esq.^ SarniOf Ont. OA, Pegasus ! stand still, ye rip, Stand still, ye supple, skitin' sorra, Woa, stand, or I the thread tak' up — The very first thread o' my story. A lassie lived wast at Mayshiel, And wow, but she was fair and friskie, I here confess, I lo'd her weel. Though she play'd me an unco pliskie. We had been bairnies at the schule ; Somehow we aye crap close thegether ; We learned our lessons on ae stool — Where ane was, faith, ye'd find the other ! A PRECIOUS JEWEL. 69 Whan schule was out we'd rin and play, And gowans pu' sae blythe and cheerie : Wi' lightsome step I'd climb the brae, And cull the rowans for my dearie. At the brae-fit, she'd stand and watch. Her e'en wad glint wi' sweet emotion, As nuts or rowans she wad catch. While doon I'd look wi' pure devotion ! Twice twenty years since that ha'e gane ; Though to the verge o' life I'm tap'rin', Yet still I see her smile fu' fain, And kep the rowans in her apron ! I yet can see her dimpled cheek, Her bonnie curls waving free. Aft in my dreams I hear her speak. And see her laugh wi' pawkie glee ! How aft we'd sit doon i' the dell. And twine and shape the rushes green, My rushy-cap, I needna tell, Was fashion'd aye for l)onnie Jean. In har'st, we laid aside our book. And 'hint the shearers we wad pingle, To Jeanie, in ayont the stock, I'd sleely hand my wee bit single. I'd tak' her hand when nae ane saw. Then she wad blush an' look amiss ; Her lips I durst nae pree ava — The very thought was perfect bliss ! We lo'ed wi' perfect love divine — Nature designed us for ilk other ; I'm sure this day she wad be mine, If death had ca'd away her mother. Hi H - •'M • .#• i > Hi-- «r >/ Si llli h ^ I I ! i ill 70 A PRECIOUS JEWEL. For monie a year I courted Jean, And aft she vow'd to be my ain ; The weddin'-day was set I ween, When faith, her love began to wane. Ae night her faither look'd sae sour. Her mother skelHed wi' a'e e'e, And syne she said : " Tarn, ye are poor, Ye'd better let our Jean a-be." Quo I, " Guidwife," as up I rose, " I lo'e your daughter true as steel." But faith, she turned up her nose, And faith, I turned upon my heel. When at the door I ga'e a keek, A waesome keek out o'er my shouther, I saw a tear on Jeanie's cheek. And ower my cheek there ran another. My Jean I never saw nae mair — She slighted me for lack o' siller ; In twa short weeks I do declare. My lass got buckled to the Miller. For monie a weary night and day I groaned and yattered 'gainst my fate, But now, at length, I'm glad to say, I'm somewhat better at this date. Now ilka lad tak' my advice — Whene'er your lass gets out o' tune, Just let her gang — though e'er sae nice, Aye strive to keep your heart abune. Be like the man that had a kist. And when he loosen'd aff the rope He raised the lid — his all he missed, But found the precious jewel — Hope 1 TOO MUCH libp:rty. 71 Too M.UCH LlBEF^TY. Inscribed to yames Andenon^ Esq. HE guidwife ga'e us screed on screed, \\-\ Syne went to where the sea-maws breed, Now ilka thing's gane heels o'er head ; We'd better a' be lying dead. Afore she reaches liame. The sow runs squeelin' round the yard. The dog has e'en lost a' regard ; Our Jean sits bletherin' wi' the Laird, And geeks at his lang tousie beard, Her mither's no at hame. Whene'er the maut got 'bune the meal. The sight o' her wad gar us squeel. Like rattans into holes we'd steal, Guid faith ! we'd sooner face the de'il — Than her wha's comin' hame. There's nane now scarts the parritch pat. The soot has got among the saut, The Laird has drank up a' the maut, The Doctor is as blind's a bat — The guidwife's no at hame. We'll a' be forced to join the total, The cork will soon be in the bottle. The press-key placed in the kist shottle ; We'll ha'e to smoke fear's very dottle — When our guidwife comes hame. •J^'.,—*-! ^ ■ & "1 •*^ '"Aft": •i, 72 A PRECIOUS JEWEJ,. ^}h V I r!i ! it I ■■111 The soap lies soakin' in the plate, We've hounded care out at the gate, We've lost the very day and date, We tumble headlang aff the sate, When our guidwife's frae hame. At night, like owls, the lasses whup. Next morn ye canna rouse them up ; They've broken ashet, plate and cup. We'll soon ha'e neither bite or sup ; At times we ^vish her hame. Our Jocks, our Peters and our Wills, Just a' gang roaring round like bulls. And kicking chairs out o'er the stools, And cracking ane another's skulls, When our guidwife's frae hame. Wee Tam sits glunching in the nook, With face and hands as black's the crook, He glooms e'en at the Bible-book, And on his lessons winna look, When the guidwife's frae hame. When once her foot's o'er the door stane, A' our excuses will be vain, Though tears come dashing down like rain, Her antidote will find the bane — See there ! she's coming hame. She's hame, and she has felled the soo, She's flung the dog out o'er the coo. She's mauled us till we're black and blue — Transgression's bitter cud we chew Since our guidwife cam' hame. A WORD TO THE CANADIAN WEEVIL. 73 She's bearded discord in its lair, The Laird and Jean kicked down the stair, Now Justice sits high on his chair, And Virtue cries to Vice " beware ! " Our guidwife's now at hame.. MORAL. The knave 'bout Uberty may shout, The fool 'bout freedom rave and rout, Miss Liberty is grand nae doubt. When well we use her. But then, ye ken, the perverse nowt Do aft abuse her ! • • • A WoBp TO THE Canadian Weevil, Inscribed to R. McKenzie Esq.^ Sarnia, Ont. E graceless wheat-destroying weevil. Rampageous as the very devil, '^ Can ony tongue be to you civil ; By day or night. On waving crops ye feast and revel, Afore our sight. A' that we do, a' that we say — Though sinners swear and christians pray. Yet still ye dinna mind a strae. Ye tak your meal ; Ye just gang pouncing on your prey. And fill your creel. 1 w / ■•■>• ^i ■ ' nil 1 iHiibiii 74 A WORD fO THE CANADIAN WEEVIL. t Pi tv\ Ml »•: . Dame Nature is a jade most fickle, When crops look as they'd take the sickle, Ye hool the heart o' ilka picklj Just in a night, And leave the faners but a rickle — O' chaff to dight. Misquitos, and sic like sma' fry, • Their ways and haunts we can espy, Mair mense than you, though unco sly. We can them smash. And soon make them at death's door lie Wi' little fash. But you, ye brutes ! to wisest men Ye are a thought beyond their ken, Where ye come frae, the how and when To fill your kites, E'en Hind has failed a hand to len' To set to rights. Ane e'en would think that Dr. Gill, Who tugs our hearts and reins wi' skill, Would 'pound a posset or a pill, To gar them scour, Like Johnnie Cope frae ^"'•slie hill. Within the hour. Stook upon stooks sent to the midden, Full monie a heart wi' grief ye sadden, Ye spoilt Peg Dale's concocted weddin' Wi' Robbie Rue, Wha hadna gear to buy providin', And a' for -you. There's Tammie Turnip, autumn past, A sheep's e'e at Meg Colwort cast. But you, ye souls, cam' like a blast Upon his grain : He nailed an oath to the bed-post, To sleep his lane. I' > 41 A WORD TO THE CANADIAN WEKVIL. 75 A gown o' silk Kate Kailrunt wanted, She thought how brawly she could flaunt it, She asked her man if he wad grant it — He gave a roar, Then heels o'er head the poor man canted And ne'er spak' more. There's our auld neighbor Sandy Bran, A better chield life ne'er began, From empty barns headlang ran, Plung'd through a swamp ; Next morn was found cauld, stiff and wan, 'Strung on a stump. A slee auld carl was (ieordie Jack, Ae e'en sax cradlers on did tak'. Next morn he wasna worth a plack ; Wi' down cast main He made a bullet straight play whack, Out through his brain ! When Tam, the tailor, 'gan to shear, . He keekit in to a wheat's ear. He gaped ! he stagger'd ! then did steer With reckless canter ; Some arsenic grains dashed in his beer, Tam died instanter ! I had an honest, frugal aunty, Wha wi' her man lived in a shanty ; Ae night she was fu' weel and canty : Woe's me, alack ! Next morn her spirit took a j auntie, And ne'er cam' back ! Such cases I might multiply. All caused by that infernal fly. How men, in scores, leap up sky high, Wi' fear and fright. And women groan, and faint, and cry At dead o' night. m *m\ :l am* ' .s S Hi > ii'i 76 A WORD TO THE CANADIAN WEEVIL. U'. : IM I This business, sirs, must be corrected, Losh me ! the very nout's infected ; At stake and sta' they stand neglected, And hing their head. E'en me, mysel', I'm sair dejected And near hand dead ! Ye men o' state ! be up, be doin', The cud o' strife no more be chewin', No more intrig'in' plots be brewin' ; Wi' ae accord Rise up ! and save us a' from ruin. By fire or sword. Ye cabinet men ! lay heads thegether, Bethink no more your nests to feather. Stop for a space your dinsome blether, I speak ye civil. Or if ye roar, roar a' thegether. And scare the weevil ! Let John McDonald seek them out, Let Sandfield catch them by the cloot, And a' the members roar and shout Wi' bellows lungs, The very de'il himself you'd rout. To list your tongues. ril wager my auld bonnet blue, A stot, a stirk, and forrow coo. If ye just raise ae wild halloo 'Mang the wheat crap, The brutes will vanish like the dew. And ne'er come back ! THE CAT ANEATH THK CHAIR. 77 The Cat Aneath the Chai!\. I^E night quo' Jock unto his wife "atweel ril tak' a dander out ovver to Mayshiel, To speir if Will and a' the folk are weel." ^ Quo' Bess, " 1 wish ye'd stay wi' me to crack, But if ye gang, I hope ye'll hurry back ; It's unco eerie when the stars appear. To sit my lane and no ae neighbour near." " For mercy's sake," quo' Jock, " the guid preserve us ! What's this o't now, losh ! Bess, ha'e ye got nervous ? I'm e'en at my wit's end I maun to confess. To find a cure to conquer your distress, The buck-bean plant, the bark frae willow trees, Might counteract and banish your disease; The buck-beans, my auld grannie aft she blessed them. They toned her nerves and strengthen'd up her system ! Sae if ye like, I'll rin wi' willing stride And pu' that herbage frae the water side." " Man, Jock," quo' Bess, "for guidsake stop your clavers, It fairly scunners me to hear your havers ! Ye're growin' wise, losh, Jock ! ye're byous clever I sair misdoubt ye'll no be a lang liver." At this Jock leugh, he ran to get his rung. But was arrested by the guid wife's tongue ; Quo' she, " the like I ne'er saw a' my days ! Will ye gang that way ? gang and change your claes, Gae wash your face, and gi'e your hair a kame, And e'en look purpose like when ye're frae hame, See to your hair ! I never saw the like, Frae tap to tae ye're just a touzy tyke ; Man if ye saw yersel' ye'd see a sight Wad mak' ye swarf wi' downright fear and fright ! • it. v., *¥••%■ y > « ij:: 1 |i 1 1 1 < 1 1 lli' ' '"1! 78 THE CAT ANKATH TIIK CHArR. Look at your sleeve, your elbow through it keeks, And guide us a', Oh ! what a pair o' breeks ! As for your waist-coat and your very shirt, I do declare they're just engrained wi' dirt ! Sax years by-gane ye was as clean's a preen, A look o' you was pleasing to the een. My certy ! sic a change has now owerta'en ye I think black burning shame to look upon ye ! I weel I wat whan ye to me cam' courtin', Ye look'd a man wi' independent fortune ; Your hair lay sleek, your bannet stood a-jee, Your ribbon-ends hung gracefu' 'bout your knee. Ye were the wale — the pick o' a' the fallows. Ye now look ripe and ready for the gallows ! A kind o' hang-dog look ye ha'e about ye. That mak's my very soul at times mis-doubt ye ; Were ye dook'd in the burn, I ha'e my doubts The water soon wad poison a' the trouts ; Get out my sight ! redd up yersel', be quick, Or thance I'll brain ye wi' the parritch stick ! " "Now Bess," quo' Jock, "when first I met wi' you, Butter, I'm sure, wad no melt in your mou ; 'Twas then I little dreamed that ye could flyte, Yet still I trow your bark's worse than your bite." With these remarks, forthwith a cannie tear Did on the eyelash o' his wife appear, Awhile it glisten'd, then sae mild and meek. It fell and trickled o'er her rosy cheek ; Now Jock gaed up and clasped her to his bosom. Then sair she rued that she did sae abuse him ; Now love and joy and pure domestic bliss. Were centered a' in ae lang rousin' kiss. And thus she spoke, " my words no tak' to heart. Through fire and water, Jock, I'll tak' your part, I wadna say an unkind word unto ye. If wi' my heart and soul I didna lo'e ye." Quo' Jock, " my dear, your council aye I prized." Then aff he funked to do as was advised ; 4. THK CAT ANEATH THK CHAIR. 79 He soon gat ready — when the twasome parted, They looked sae thowless and maist l)roken hearted ! But truth compels me here to write maintain That 'fore he left he kissed his wife aj;ain. Jock's on the road ; the reader now may learn That Jock's guidwife is mother o' a bairn, They trowed o' lasses fient a ane wns wiser, Guidfaith ! the twa did fairly idolize her ; Wi' mickle care their wee bit pet they hanTd — She was their first, sae they were baith new fangl'd ; As sure's I breathe, it's near hand s«.'t me crazy To list the uncos o' their wee bit Daisy ! Jock was a cannie, careless, drudging slunk, But Bess was fou o' smeddum and o' spunk ; She'd wash and synd, and mak' and mend, and scour ; Perfection might ha'e dinner'd on her floor ; She had a job to tend and keep Jock right, The loon somehow wad no stay in at night ; And aft she wished, like monie a gimin' damt^ He'd break his leg and then he'd stay at hame ! Then Mirth wad fill her heart up to the hilts, When picturing Jock hung on a pair o' stilts ; Then Pity would arise as Grief drew near. Then Hope would smile and wipe the pearly tear. Now reader, if you please, we'll gang wi' Jock And introduce ye to the Mayshiel folk. " Whisht ! bairns whisht, do stop that deavin' roar, I hear a rap — there's some ane at the door, As sure's I breathe, I'll gie my highest aith, I canna hear a word aboon my breath, Rin ! Tammie, rin, and dinna snicker mair. And pu' the bolt and see wha's standin' there. Is that you Jock ? guid save us, Jock, come in, Guidwife, hang up John's bonnet on the pin ; How are ye man, and how is it a' wi* ye ? As sure as death Pm unco glad to see ye ! I haena seen your face for monie a day, Man ! ye're as welcome as the flow'rs o' May, *v, '^n^* ^^m '■^^ So THE CAT ANEATH THE CHAIR. 11 ■* Mi: Come, draw your chair up to the ingle cheek; Guidwife, just hang the kettle on the cleek : Now bairns, awa to bed — ye noisy clips — And if I hear ae word frae out your lips, Ye'll get a something or I'm sair mista'en, Will mak' your very banes roar out wi' pain ! " Wi' this the bairnies creepit ben the house; Soon ower their glass baith Jock and Will sat crouse, And Will's guidwife sat cosy by the ingle. And at her stockin' she would crack and pingle, Speir'd if Jock's wife had now gat weel again, And if their Daisy yet could gang her lane? Jock claw'd his head, awhile he humm'd and hackit. Then said, "my wife's as weel's can be expeckit, And our bit lass has now begun to toddle, And o' her minnie just the very model ; She's unco sair been pester'd wi' her gums. And a' the day bite biteing at her thum's. She's tholed it weel, I'm glad to say that noo, Twa teeth, like lances sharp, are keekin' through, Hech me ! I trowed that death awa wad ta'en her, Whan the guidwife at first began to wean her. She took the croup, and syne the scarlet fever, The measles, faith ! I thought they'd never leave her, The measles ! aft I've wished they were in Sodom, They looked as if they wad ha'e dressed her drodum ! What next she'll tak' is mair than I can mention, For that is something 'bune my comprehension ! Whate'er it is, we'll do our best to maister Wi' drug and poultice, and wi' stickin' plaster." " Aye, aye," quo' Will, " the ills o' life are monie. We had an unco time wi' our wee Johnie, He took a kind o' dwam and syne a quiver, Guidfaith ! we thought we'd loose him a' thegethei ! We set to wark, we rubbed him wi' goose greese, I do declare that soon did gie him ease ; And now-a-days the sumph believes our blethers, And soon expects to raise a crap o' feathers ! " il ii! i! i'li: I A 4 THE CAT ANEATH THE CHAIR. 8i Wi' this Jock ga'e the table sic a bang, He kicked, he roared and laughed baith loud and lang, And Will's guidwife glower'd upward frae her stockin', Then said, " guidman, I dinna like sic jokin', Sic havers ! man, I'm sair inclined to doubt it, That mickle guid ye winna see come out o't." " Hoot toot," quo' Jock, " I'm unco sure, indeed, He wadna vvrang a hair on Johnie's head ! He's his ain flesh and blood in art and part, I'm unco sure the bairn lies near his heart." Wi' this the guidman handed Meg a glass, And soon a smile cam' jinkin' on her face ; The riseing laugh she did her best to burkit. As round the corners o' her mouth it lurkit ; Now as she listen'd to the men folks yaff, She burstit out wi' ae lang glorious laugh ! She drap'd her wires and keek'd up in their faces. And then she roared, '' ye're just twa bletherin' asses ! " At times she held her sides, and 'tween her breath She'd cry, "O ! stop, or else ye'll be my death ! " And then she'd rise and lean against the wa'. And beck and bow and vent the loud gafifaw. At length she cried " guid guide us ! did ye ever ! " Then flung aside her stockin' a' thegether. Care's lugs were cufled, nae hole had he to hide in, Sae aff he sulk'd, and Joy was left presidin'. Now after sunshine storms will aft arise, And lash the placid ocean to the skies, And after mirth aft comes the bitter tear. And after battles heroes quail wi' fear ! As Jock was sittin' nickerin' in his chair. Terror and horror seized him by the hair ! His eyes rolled round, his nether lip did quiver, His cheek grew wan, his very limbs did shiver. At last he yelled, " Oh ! Will, the fiend infernal Has somehow cruppin' in to my internal ! I ne'er took sic a turn in a' my life, Guid save us, Will, Oh ! send for Bess, my wife." ^ ■ ■*.^ ,^^ '"♦i- ( ■ i i 1 m lilt * 9 1 )'■ r I'' I- r 'r .. V I.'.' 1) I |: -s a L4BBI ji'li'M il;!' ii||>' !l"'-( I'M ■! i|';iM n. ,), ' 'ill! !ii 82 THE CAT ANEATH THE CHAIR. Will roars, "Oh! Meg, rin, flee awa my bairn, Ben to the fire and bring a red-het aim ; Oh ! haste, be quick — I'll say the ten commands. Oh ! Jock, man, dinna dee amang our hands. Where are ye now, man Jock, I at ye speer Gif ye are gane, or gif ye yet are here, Come ! speak man, Jock, and tell us what*s amiss ? " "I'm on the tap," quo' Jock, "o' great distress, I feel as if ten cats were doon my thrapple, I'm gaun quick, Nick has me in his grapple ! A finger post stands 'fore me like a wraith, Which p )ints into the very jaws o' death ! " Oh ! Jo k," roared Will, " Oh ! dinna dee sae soon, Here c )mes the airn, Meg ! Meg ! pull afl" his shoon And cl; p it to his feet, woes me, guidwife, The ain^ het might bring him back to life." Doon on the floor wi' speed the guidwife crap, When fuff ! a cat play'd wallop in her lap. She gave a loup, then cried, "losh! I declare. That cat, Oh ! Jock, sprang out frae 'neath your chair; Oh ! tell us man if to the quick he's scratched ye. Or if the deevlish brute's somehow's bewitched ye ! " " Deil tak' the wretch," roared Jock " I'd no be sweer To open up his throat frae ear to ear ! The purrin' brute ! may Nick do nought but singe him, And pokers het in his vile carcass plunge them ! He's gi'en me sic a fright, I'm bound to say, I'll ne'er get ower it to my deein' day ! " ^' Poor brute," quo' Will, " he was ane o' the party, And did his best to croon ? :d to divert ye." ^' Divert me," quo' Jock, — Jock said what I'll no name, He snatch'd his bannet, started for his hame ; And since that night, Jock never wander'd mair. He ne'er forgot the cat aneath the chair ! And aye sin' syne when fools mis-uses life And winna stay at hame aside their wife. But spend the gear that should ha'e boilt the pat. The wives will say, " I hope they'll hear the cat ! " ! ' ! iIIIl TAM AND TIB. 83 m M if*- him, Jam and Tib ; or, Cause and Effect, Inscribed to Jama JV. Weir Esq. ™ AM and Tib sat by the fire, ^(j-^ And they began a crackin', Quo' she, "guidman, I mind the day, I could rin hke a mawkin.' But now I'm getting auld and stiff, And unco sair forgesket, I muckle doubt the hand o' death Is fum'Hn' 'bout my brisket ! " Last night I had a fearfii' dream. My very blood seemed ft-ozen, I thought Auld Nick, on a black horse Cam boundin' through the losin I He had a night-cowl on his croou, Through it twa horns ascended ; A. cloak he had o' bumbazine. Which to his hoofs descended. " His tail was arched like the half moon, And which stuck through his cloakin'. And Tam, as fars I could perceive, 'Twas langer than your stockin'. His nose was flat, his chin was sma', His lips stuck out between them, Ye'd sworn his lugs were asses' lugs, Guidman ! if ye had seen them. :4 .. -' ^tc^ '•"it I!>i! :«'■ it ii It! i '! I i in ; ■ '■ in"- 111' llliiiiiii 84 TAM AND TIB. a His face was just as black's the crook, His een were halflins steekit, And a' the hair aboot his beard Was scorched and brimstone smeekit. His shoulder blades niaist touched his jaws, His back was bent maist double, He looked as if he had come through A whirlwind o' trouble. ** And sic a pair o' specks he wore, Wi' him ye wadna swapit, Their wires were tied wi' woolen threads. And baith their een were crackit. Tam, he seemed waft' and broken doon, Condemned and disconcerted, Yet still he tried his best to show He wasna broken hearted. " I trowed his heart was worrit out Wi' planin' vile dissensions. He yet seemed gash enough to coup Cart-loads o' guid intentions. A glimmer o' a thought arose, Which through my harn-pan creepit, That it was queer how a' our crimes Should on Nick's back be heapit. *' We dread I keek.t in his face, Syne speared wha next he wanted ? He gae a spring frae aft" his horse. Then heels-o'er-head he canted ! He bounced and bounded like a ba', Kists, chairs ?xid stools he coupit, He ga'e a roar, syne wi* a bang Right on my breast he loupit ! " * For mercy's sake,' I cried, 'get aff,' And syne I did implore him, But ere I wist on my breast-bane, He danced up Tullochgorum ! ■ir 11'- TAM AND TIB. 8S His hoofs played clatter on my banes, His tail he lashed and flouted, And in my lugs unearthly sounds And mockriff laughs he shouted. " Man ! how he reeled and how he flang Wi' perfect exhultation, Till ilka pore was rinnin' out Wi' brimstone perspiration ! Out frae his mouth shot bolts o' fire, That gar'd me geek wi' wonder, And when he shut his lantern jaws, They crackit like the thunder ! " At last he sprang upon his horse, Then cried, ' guidwife, instanter Loup on a-hint, and you and I This night we'll ha'e a canter ! ' Against my will he hauled me up, Tarn ! how my heart gaed thumpin' When Auld Nick's horse began to snort, And syne began a-jumpin'. " We flew o'er hill, we flew o'er dale ; Auld Satan wasna idle, He cracked his whip, he spured and spured, And ruggit at the bridle. Then through amang th'j moons and stars We rode like desperation. At last we nimbly lighted doon Upon a constellation ! " We stood upon a mighty clift", Aside a raging river, Then Satan roared and said, ' guidwife. Ye now are mine forever.' I cried ' ye loon, stand back ! stand back ! I scunner at your caperin', Losh guide us a', he made a grab And catched me by the apron. 4 -> IV !!!li tt!i Ml ! i ill!!'/'! \>:l:r rr""i 4 I l,':»l 86 TAM AND TIB. h ; ' ,t " My blood boiled up, and when I yelled Auld Nick was fair confounded ; I cam' a yerk upon his claws, And frae his presence bounded ! I flew and flew, and better flew Back to the earth did glide, man, And when I woke, losh, guide us. Tarn, I e'en lay by your side, man ! " I'm unco sure that these are signs That I maun leave ye soon, man, Yet 'fore I'm earthed, I'd like to ken Wha ye'll get in my shoon, man ?" Tam opened up his auld tin mull. And he began a snuflin', And then he said, " now, Tib, your lugs Do weel deserve a cuflin'. " We hae kent ane another lang, We're unco weel acquainted ; And if ye dee, I'm bound to say Mair wives will ne'er be wanted ! Yet still ye dinna look amiss, Ye're fresh as ony daisy ; That unco drgam I ha'e nae doubt Has near-hand set ye crazy. " Ne'er fash your thumb aboot Auld Nick ; Some say he's dead and chestit. E'en Hairy Beecher o' New York, Contends he ne'er existit. I ha'e a kind o' mithicr.wit. Though ne'er was a great scholar. Yet I ha'e leaniv^d to prize twa laws — The natural and the moral. ** Last night ye ken was hogmanay, Ye loaded sair your crappin. That was the cause, and the effect Was unco sure to happin. old Tam ten,! natur fairie 'i I'-i ( I. Ml NAN O LOCKERMACUS. If folk wad lead a temp'rate life In drinkin' and in eatin', At night, wi' Satan and sic nowt, They ne'er wad ca' a meetin'. " And strive to learn that God is love- Love and not dread our Maker, And banish superstitions cant 'Bout hells black hallanshaker. " Now guidwiff gang and tak' a rest, Lie cozie in your hammock,, And learn a lesson frae last night, Ne'er to o'erload your stomach." Quo' Tib, " ye're good at an advice. Your wisdom's deep's a well, man, But Fam tak' tent, and e'en tak' hame Your council to yersel', man." Here Tamraie ga'e a kind o' grunt. And syne a wee he coax'd her ; It wasna lang e're she slept sound And sweet aneath his oxter ! 87 r^' "4' >.^' ^'^ (^*» ■ • • • Nan o' Lockermacus. Inscribed to Graham Wilson^ Esq., Bay City^ Mich. '"'■ Visions and magic spells can ye despise, And laugh at witches, ghosts and prodigies." In the long winter evenings, our ingle-side was often visited by an old shepherd, welj known in the Lammermoors by the name of Auld Tarn McCleish. Although verging, at that time, upon three score and •^en, he was hale and hearty. He was a steadfast believer in the super- natural :nd would unfold tales about bogles, ghosts, witches, warlocksy fairiec. jrownies, water-v/raiths, kelpies and dead-raps that filled us with ■■<-■%. i >• lit' "•'.'JWI 88 NAN O LOCKERMACUS. I* . r* ■ ■I.'' I':. I,., lipii'!'' nil ii;^i::l( 111 \;j|' iiii :;M ll! tuch fear and terror, that even while we listened, we were afraid to look over our shoulder, and some of us, rather than venture out in the dark* ness, would have preferred to be lashed within an inch of our lives Auld Tanv always carried a long staff with an iron pike in the end of it, for the purpose of protecting himself from the attacks of the " Unco folk." He also carried in his pouch a kind of white snuff, which he called " witch powder," and if any of the cattle in the neighborhood got bewitched, he would blow, with a quill, some of the powder into their eyes, for the purpose of breaking the witch-spell. The powder he would also administer to human beings as occasion demanded. In the morning, if a hare happened to cross his path, he considered it unlucky, and would immediately return home and remain till the sun went down. He had a strong aversion to the pyet, /'. e.y magpie ; the following, regarding that bird, he was in the habit of repc tting with awful solemnity : " Ane's a waddin', twa's a birth, i Three's the dead-thraw, four is death." There was an old woman in the village called " Witch Nan," for whom he also had a strong dislike. According to him, nr one would dream a fearful dream or see a vision without Nan being, some way or another, at the bottom of it, If sickness came among the cattle, Tarn was always ready, like a ministering angel, with his quill and powder; and if any of the catfle chanced to die, he would with frenzy exclaim, " May the deil row Nan in his blankit! She's beat me this time, but I hopt I'll live lang enough to see day about wi' that lim' o' Satan." He seemed to consider that he held a commission to baulk Nan's evil machinations ; in a word, to do his best to thwart her in her glamour- castings, spells and cantrips. After great persecution, Nan somewhat mysteriously left that part of the country, and Tarn McCleish's occupa- tion, like Othello's, was gone. He laid aside his staff, his quill and his witch powder, and drooped and died. The following is an attempt to illustrate some of the notions that once prevailed reg-f our lives the end of the " Unco f, which he eighborhood powder into le powder he led. In the I it unlucky, I went down, le following, with awful ;h Nan," for K one would some way or cattle, Tarn land powder} ;nzy exclaim, |is time, but I Satan." He Nan's evil ler glamour- in somewhat |ish's occupa- [uill and his notions that NAN O LOCKKRMACUS. 89 r^ANGSYNE upon the Millwud brae, §f A witch ance lived, as I've heard say, ^•' A kind o* poor, decrepit crater, The very picture o' ill-nater ; A' day at the fireside she'd cour, A' night o'er hill and dale she'd scour, And play sic cantrips far and near, As filled baith auld and young wi' fear ; At night the bairns wad spring to bed. And jerk the blankets o'er their head. Syne trembling baith in lith and limb, They'd pray, or croon their wee bit hymn ; Sair they wad strive to fa' asleep Afore auld Nan would on them creep ! A couple liv'd south at Rawburn, For snutf and tea sair they did girn ; Ae day their Bess was sent to Dunse, To buy the tea and half an o'nce O' snuff; whan she was coming back. The shades o' night did her o'ertak'. She had win down the Henly-hill, And safely gained and passed Blacksmill, When wind began to blaw and rift. And lightning flash across the lift ; The thunder bellowed o'er her head, Bess tore alang wi' a' her speed ; Just as the storm began to lull, A something ga'e her skirt a pull ! A something whispered in her ear. That made her shake and quake wi' fear ! Syne like a dog around her reel'd. And bark'd and whinged, and roared and squeel'd, Amang her feet it ga'e a wallop, Syne aff it scour'd wi' fearfu' gallop ! Poor Bessie roar'd, " Oh, guid keep me !" Wi' dread she drop'd the snuff and tea ; ■'V I 90 NAN O' LOCKKRMACUS. nA I 11'. '^ "■ I ] I. ^ , I' I'l ifl!iil|l|il !!■' ill' I I t I I','' I .i ■t! if IJI f\'i 1' I ' iiri.;, '1 I - U, ! ili'wi'l'l' ' iiMniiij Power fairly left her arm and hand, And like a statue she did stand; Then took leg bail wi' a' her might — No earthly power could stop her flight ! As she gade springing o'er a mire, 7'here cam' a dazzling flash o' fire, A something past her ga'e a rush, Tnen dashed into a boortree bush ! Bess dosed her e'en and lap the ditches, To get scot free frae Nannie's clutches. When she gat ham':, I e'en may tell How in her mother's arms she fell. And swoon'd and fainted clean awa, And when her lungs began to draw. At intervals,, she did relate How Nan, the witch, had crossed her gait ; Her mother cried, " the deil tak' me, Witch Nan has got my pickle tea 1 " E'en Bessie's father took the huff, His uose and mull were scant o' snuff"; I'm laith 10 say he swore an aith, An] thus be spak below his breath, " 1 durstna fell Nan wi' this poker, Yet still, I pray, the snuff' will choke her. There's nane in a' the rounds wad care. Though she lay stiff" for ever mair ! " Then they did brew for Bess some toddy. To keep the spirit in her body. For weeks poor Bess was pale and wan, And a' the blame was laid on Nan. Now Tam McCleish cam* round aboot. He saw poor Bess as white's a cloot, Wi* anxious care forthwith did try To find out Bessie's malady ! He heard about her unco fright. He said, "my dear, I'll set ye right, NAN O LOCKERMACUS. 91 It; )t, I'll break Nan's spell, guidfaith ! my certy I soon will mak* ye hale and hearty." Now Tarn did mix up a witch pouther, Three times he ilang some o'er her shouther, Syne charged her weel whan night did f i', To swallow down a grain or twa ; But 'fore the spell wad fair be broken, Two drachms she must tie in her stockin'. And after she had ta'en the dose - To sup a hearty kit o' brose ! Afore he left, he charged them s. ir To send him word how Bess di<^ 0, And if she wasna' gettin' better, He'd tak' another guid look at her, And, if he thought there was occasion, He'd gi'e her mair examination ! Tam took his stick, bade them guid day. And never stop'd for thanks or pay. There was a man ca'd Andrew Luke, Wha gaed to Dunsc to hire a cook ; Whan comin' hame ae Friday night, Losh, me ! the twasome gat a fright ! The stars abune their heads were peepin' As they alang the road were creepiii' ; (The cook was just a kind o' trollop, They gade like twa snails at the gallop, And Andrew didna' care a snap To what extent she took her stap.) He raised his voice, and thus did speak : ** My lass, whan hame, be sure to steek And fasten weel your bedroom door, Case Nan, the witch, should you devour. Wi' this the cook did quick remark, "That it was growing fearfu' dark." " Ye're right," quo' he, "the deil be in it, It's got pitch dark just in a minit." * • » *^ *f T i ^> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1. 1.4 IIIIIM |||21 lU |l.6 I.I 1.25 ^ — 6" — _ ► <9 ^ 7] /2 ^ W^^^ '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 :•'■♦{! I'i ill P^^ I ii! P^^: I ii M I ii i! l^f '%^ 1 .'')*« i i ' , I 1'' 1 l! 9a NAN O* LOCKERMACUS. 11 Pi; H' Mill 'III'! 'I- ^ m i;i > § ii: ■« 111! I !!llll ii ll ' Now down the hill runs a bit burn, Just where the fit-road tak's a turn, A gust o' wind wi' swirlin' speed Did nearly knock them heels ower head ! Their very hearts lap to their mouth, For, whan they ventured to gang south, A brute just like a hoodie craw Cam' swatt'ring in atween the twa ! It had a neb sax inches lang. And fi"ae its neb there shot a fang, It had twa fiery wull-cat een. It had twa legs baith lang and lean, And aye it ga'e the ground a claw. Then lap and danced around the twa. And whiles it ga'e a curious craik. That gar'd the cook and Andrew shake ! The cook sent forth an unco roar, Then cried, "Oh ! shut my bed-room door." She gave a spring, then afF did birr. While Andrew no ae fit could stir. It just was striking twa o'clock. Whan Andrew at his door did knock, " Wha's at the door ? '' his wife did cry ; "I think it's me," was his reply. Then up she rose to let him in. He, like a ghost, did past her spin. In hole and corner he did look. At length he cried, "where is the cook, The diel a bit o' me can see her. Oh ! what on earth ha'e ye done wi' her ? " Quo' she, " Guidman, ye're clean gane daft. The fient a cook cam' ower the craft" He lifted up his hands on high " May heaven protect us ! " he did cry, " As sure as death, we may depend. This warld is coming to an end, It winna do just now to swear. For losh ! our ends are drawing near ! " NAN O LOCKERMACUS. 93 ?5 Next morn, like fire, the story ran, How that infernal witch, caM Nan, Had turned hersel' into a craw, And Andrew's cook had witch'd awa ! Folk sought the lass, but fient a hair O' her on earth was e'er seen mair. Andrew ae night keek'd through Nan's losin. At the fireside he saw her dosein', A cat was sitting on her back. It purred but no a word Nan spak. He tald the folk what there he saw, And then he fainted clean awa, But time has left no trace or track To tell if Andrew's wind cam' back ! There lived out ower upon the common, A kind of antiquated woman ; Whan she was young, she had got married, But death her guidman aff had carried ; And now she kept a coo or twa An' sold the milk in Randyraw, Now, this guidwifie*s nomenclater, I e'en may tell — was Peggy Frater, She sang a' day like a canary. And trig and clean she kept her dairy, She hadna' muckle warld's wealth. But she was strong, and had her health. Ae day the bairnies in the Raw, Did on their parritch fuff and blaw. And some o' them did glunch and pout, As Peggie's milk that mom ran out. Next morn she cam' wi' pitious wail. And tald an unco waesome tale : " How her best coo had turned ill, And wadna gi'e o' milk, a gill." Quo' she, " I'm unco wae to think That she now lies upon death's brink, 8 4. '■■i H •4 l|«. '4. ■ ^. ••1 m iiei 94 NAN O LOCKERMACUS. W !pnili Kiim >'. .\'.: I'll II III in Though I did gi*e her felHn' grass To help her through wi' her distress ; It fills my heart to hear her groan, She's lying now down in the loan, Her hours a very child might number, She'll soon fa' into her last slumber ; I'm seeking now for Robie Baumer, To fell her wi' his muckle hammer ; It's best to put her out o' pain, For she'll ne'er be a coo again." Wi' grief poor Peg began a-slotterin', And aff for Robie she gade hotterin'; As she alang the doors did bellow. Loud Tarn McCleish did to her hallow ; He kindly speer'd at Mrs. Frater, What gard her tears run down like water ? Then she did tell him wi' a hurry, The cause o' a' her grief and flurry; It didna tak' a lang oration To let Tam ken her hale vexation. Quo' Tam, " it will be a bad job, If death frae you that coo should rob. She has a bonnie head o' horns. Their ends are just as sharp as thorns ; I wat, she is a beast well made, Her legs are sma', her brisket's brade. Her hide is just as saft as silk. And what a jaw she gi'es o' milk. Her skim milk's grand, I do declare it. The mair I'd drink, I'd drink the mair o't ! And than the cream, I do believe it, Is just ' ^ thickness o' a diviot, Her bv. r, aye, guidfaith, indeed. Its marrow ne'er was spread on breed ! " Tam thought awhile and then did say, " We e'en will dander up the brae, I'll tak' a look at her, ma fegs. And try to set her on her legs, III n NAN () LOCKERMACUS. 95 Another tear now dinna drop, Guidwife ! as lang's there's life, there's hope ! " " Weel," quo' the wife, " yet I'll maintain, That a' our efforts will be vain, Man ! Tam, if ye but heard her blaw Ye'd trow she was in the dead-thraw." Tam drew his hand frae out his pocket, His bonnet on his head he knockit. Then up the brae did meditate^ Till they gat through the plantin' gate ; Syne aff they waded through the clover, Fu' kind and couthie wi' ilk other ; The winds were blawing saft and sweet, The flowers were blooming 'mang their feet. Up in the air the larks were springing, The birdies on ilk tree were singing, The lambs upon the knowes were dancing, Down on the burn the sun was glancing ; As Tam did look at Mrs. Frater, He said, "how grand's the works o' nater.'' "Aye, aye," quo she, ** I'm sure I'd feel Contented if ma coo was weal, O' care and grief we'll ha'e our load, Sae lang as we're abune the sod. And though my coo do run her race, ril get another in her place ; I'd ance a hantle mair to mourn. Whan my guidman was frae me torn, For, whan his spirit gaed aboon, Nae ane on earth could fill his shoon." Fu' cosh they crack'd for half a mile, Until they reached the auld dyke stile ; As o'er the steps they singly creepit. And on the other side they drepit, They saw the coo lie in the loanin', And loud and lang the beast was groanin'; Then Tam gade round and round about her. Quo* he, " I unco sair misdoubt her, v^-S. 96 NAN O' LOCKERMACUS. ki' ! ill lil! 1,1 J. I maistly think 'twill be in vain To raise her on her legs again." And then he cockit up his eye, And said, "we might do worse than try." Down in the ground his stick he stapit, He placed his bannet on the tap o't. As fou as it would hold, the quill Wi' pouther he did deftly fill ; To the guidwife he said at length, " Just grip her tail wi' a' your strength, And in a minit I will tell. If I ha'e broken Nannie's spell." Peg held the tail — at the cow^s head Tarn louted down wi' spraicklin' speed, WhifF in her e'en the pouther blew. She roared, then to her feet she flew. And o'er Tarn's body ga'e a spring, While to the tail the wife did hing. Tarn yelled, "the deil's got in the coo ! Hech me ! I'm fairly done for noo ! " He thought the beast wad fair devour him, As the auld wife played yerk out ower him. At length Tarn to his feet did whip. And on the knowe he ga'e a skip, "That coo," quo he, " will soon be well, Losh, me ! I've broken Nannie's spell." Now, Mrs. Frater cried, " alack ! Ye've broke the spell an' broke my back ! " But Tam ne'er cared a word she said. He took his stick and aff he gade ; The guidwife rose, she heaved a sigh. She saw her coo wi' tail on high. Thundering alang wi' break-neck speed, Tossing and shaking horn and head ! She thought, as it o'er dykes did bleeze — The cure was worse than the dir ^ase ! NAN O LOCKKRMACUS. 97 There was a lad ca'd Jemmy Deans, A lad possessed o' mense and means ; A horse imto a cart he yokit, Then placed ten shillings in his pocket, And aff he rode at mornin's sun, To buy some coals — say half a ton. While comin' hame on the auld track, James Deans ahint the cart did walk ; The day was edging down to night, The sun had gane clean out o' sight, And darkness cam' sedate and still And settled upon Harden's-hill. When comin' past the Snuffy-holes, James sprang upon the cart o' coals, Put forth his hand the reins to catch, But fient a rein was there to snatch ; He jumpit down and aff did stridle, And caught the horse fast by the bridle, To stop the beast he roar'd, " woa, woa ! " Yet still the horse wad onward go ! He looked a-head, what he saw there Did mak' him gaze wi' idiot stare ! He saw a curious looking crater, Just like a goat in shape and stature ; Twa horns frae out its skull ascended, A beard far past its knees descended. James Deans then svarfed wi' fear and fright. On ilka horn he saw a light That bleezed and burned bright and clear, And sent a glimmer far and near ! At ilka step the brute wad take, Its shaggy tail did toss and shake. It held the reins fast wi' its teeth. And pulled as if 'tween life and death. Now Jemmy steevely held his whip, He sprang and ga'e it sic a clip, Ii drop'd the reins and up did spurt, Backward it bleezed o'er horse and cart, CM ^» r k»l > *5tf ii'fi' It bounded twenty feet or mair, It turned and tumbled in the air, From mouth and nostril forth there came A red sulphurious blast of flame ! James stood and gazed with wild surprise, Till fear shut up and sealed his eyes. And when he opened them once more He gave a wild unearthly roar — He saw the brute plunge in the mire, And vanish in a flash o' fire ! When James gat home he did report How he made Satan loup and snort, But folk about the Randy-raw Did better ken what Jimmy saw ; They shook their heads with sore afiliction. Their thumbs did point in Nan's direction ! !l' trv^. ! II I !i Ae night McCleish sat by the fire Weavin' the thread around the wire ; A pair o' brogues lay 'neath his seat ; His slipshod bauchels graith'd his feet. His bannet blue hung on a pin. His cowl was strapped aneath his chin ; On his chair-back a plaid was hingin', Out ower his head twa hams were swingin'. His stafl" lay on the dresser head. Aside a trencher fou o' bread ; A cat lay beekin' in the nook. The kettle sang upon the crook. Upon the fire the peats were heapit. Clean as a preen the hearth was sweepit. His bellowses had blawn a gale — They now hung breathless on a nail ; An ulzie lamp stood on the brace, Wha's light shone shimmerin' on his face ; Tam at his stockin' sat and ply'd, At times the canty fire he eyed, ! NAN O' LOCKER.MACUS. 99 And whiles he'd glow'r aboot asklent — The very picture o' content. Upon a shelf a mouse crap out, It nibbled at auld Tarn's dish-cloot : The cat ne'er fashed to turn her e'e, But looked as mim as mini could be ; McCleish now laid aside his stockin', He raxed his pipe — began a smokin*, And like the bonnie female gender, He placed his cloots upon the fender. Then, like his drowsy cat, sat blinkin'. Till sleep upon his eyes cam' jinkin'. Now at this hour a graceless laddie Wha was neglected by his daddie, Straevaget round aboot that night And in Tam's window saw a light ; He sleely mounted the door-stane. And keekit through the window-pane ; And as he listen'd at the losin, He heard that Tam was soundly dozein' ; As Tam ga'e ae confounded snore. The callant sleely op'd the door ; On tip-toe ben the house he slunk, His een glanced on a brimstone spunk, Its end he lit, then canny goes And hauds it under Tammie's nose. Then out the door awa gaed bleezin'. Afore McCleish began the snee/ n' ; Tam had some bristles in his beek. And when the hair began to feek He ga'e ae bound up in the air, He yelled and raved wi' black despair. He reeled and chok'd, he swore and swat, He fuffed and paw'd just like a cat. And when he drew a canny breath. In vengeance wild he swore an aith — He swore by moon and stars sae bright, He'd murder Nan that very night ! i X,, V , ^ 4 »' * ■ > J : 41 1 i iflli '' 1 1 % i I 4j lOO NAN () I.OCKKRMACUS. I •lliil Yes ! 'fore the night wad steal awa', He'd hew her up in pieces sma', And throw her banes ahint the dyke, For dogs and corbie-craws to pyke, And ere he took a second thought, A sword frae 'hint the bed he brought, His ulzie lamp he quick blew out, Syne to the passage aft' he put ; But mischief's horn that night was fou, For in the entry lay a soo ; Out ower its body auld Tarn bounded, Tarn and the Imite were fliir confounded, It ga'e a bloody, murdering roar, Syne plunged out ower him to the door ! Tam turned as stift' and cauld as lead, Then swarf'd away wi' perfect dread ; And when he rose he stood aghast, He thought ilk breath wad be his last. His bosom heaved with pangs o' grief. He trembled like an aspen leaf, Thon.gh hope revived he said, "dod blast it. My days are gane, my life's exhausted. My kane is paid — I'm here nae langer. Yet still I'm like to burst wi' anger ; A bat or moudiwart might see Nan soon will be the death o' me ! '' That night Tam didna venture out. He rowed his nose up in a cloot, And *mang his blankets shook wi' fear. In case Witch Nan would re-appear. While horror at his heart was snappin', Despair was worrying at his crappen. At length the mists o* morn departed, And Tam arose sair disconcerted ; Though unco waff-like and forlorn. He busket up at screigh o' morn. Put on his shoon and eke his claes, Syne doon the road he took his ways ; NAN O IA)(JKKRMAC LS. lOI At ilka step his wrath increased — It burned and simmer'd in his Ijriest ; O'er dyke he glow'r'd, ^en roared " dod-rat-us, There's the auld Endor howkin' taties ! " And as he thus a blink did hover, His wrath was fliirly boiling over ; He raised his voice and cried, " ye limmer. Ye ne'er will see the flowers o' simmer ; Ye're on the verge o' the next warl'. Your banes Fll burn up in a barrel, Langsyne by rights, ye scorpian woman, 'Mang seas o' fire ye should be soomin', But faith this morn ye'll get your sneesh. Or than my name's no Tarn McClcish, Your end is near, wi' Nick no doot Ye'll soon be suppin' soup aboot ! " Nan roared, "gang hame, ye hoary ass, Gang hame, and hide your ill-faiird face. Gang hame, ye wuzzent, slinkin' brock, And tie your head up in a pock, Ye menseless, mis-begotten tyke, How dare ye venture ower my dyke, And set your fit on my kail yard — Ye gruesome tanker back it caird ? Gif ye a herrin's length come near me. Just like a salmon trout I'll spear ye ! " Nan shook the grape, then cried, " ye nowt Come on and get your harns dug out." Tam cried, " ye brimstone hag o' Sodom, Last night ye nearly dressed my drodum, Ye witch notorious ! dinna stare As if ye didna ken or care, ' Ye needna growl and girn wi' rage — Ye've now attained a ripe auld age, Steek baith your een, and baud your breath, And be prepared for instant death ! " Nan stood erect, her foe she eyed. With burning rage she thus replied — 1 •*■>■■ * > I' 5- ■ t "•'it mJ'- , ■ 102 NAN O' LOCKERMACUS. m\ t, I I. > (. f H pi if' 1 . jA l|>:;i|! 'i. t •i'n ill I Ulliiliiii''' mi: Illilll!!'' ill m ill!! 'i -iiiiiiiiii^i 'k-' IM ^- ■ ilHiim I 1^1 I " Big bolts of fire descend and cleave him ! Open ye earthquakes to receive him, Engulph him in your dark abodes, 'Mang lizards, spiders, wasps and toads ; May vipers twist and coil around him, May waters rush and fires confound' him, May noises ring and clash and clatter. May terror turn his blood to water. While monsters lash him to and fro May pity never hear his woe I " Tam stood stock still, for he did spy Ten thousand furies in her eye. He hung his head like a blate wooer. Or rather like an evil doer ; Her words, a metaphor to borrow. Did prick him to the very marrow; Although his knees did shake and tremble, His fears he tried hard to disemble ; And thus he spoke : " Nan, say nae mair, Else frae the roots I'll rive your hair ; Woman, I'll gi'e ye sic a mell, Will crack your skull like an egg shell. And ere your lugs are done wi' ringin', I'll peel your hide aff like an ingan ; Last night ye filled me fou o' pain, But now your day o' grace is gane, Ye needna stand and shake and shiver, Ye can't expect to live forever ! " Tam ga*e a glower and syne a gape, Then cried, " ye randy, drap that grape ; Losh bliss my soul, that's byous queer, I've e'en forgot baith sword and spear ! " Then Nannie cried, " Tam, come your ways. And get the length o' the grape taes ; Will ye no come ? by a' that's true I soon will be the death o' you ! " She gave a spring, Tam turned his heel. While Nannie after him did squeel, ii i NAN O LOCKERMACUS. 103 He bicker'd like the very wind, And left poor Nannie far behind. He keekit round, then cried, " ye witch ye, Fd think black burning shame to touch ye." Nannie stood snirtin' in her sleeve, And unto proud o' her reprieve. Now Tarn McCleish did hameward snool. As dowf and docile as a mule. Which tells the aft repeated tale, That nought 'gainst woman can prevail ; By hook or crook on a' occasions, She's master o' the situations. Twa weeks gade by wi' cannie speed, Nae reek cam* out Nan's chimbly head. By day or night the ne'er a ane Had seen or heard her mak' a din. At last they ventured to her biggin*. They dug a hole clean through the riggin', Back to the earth they lap wi* fright. For, Oh ! they saw an unco sight ! They saw Nan drawn np twa fauld. And lying dead, and stiff and cauld. Next day they bursted in her door. They stared and still they wondered more, Nan's cat stood there wi' glowerin' een. But ne'er a shred o' Nan was seen ! Then up stood ancient Tarn McCleish, And after he had ta'en a sneesh. He said, " last night when down the haugh. O'er head I heard an eldrich laugh, I gazed right up and there I Gaw Twa witches airtin' for Dunse law ! The tane had on a blood red mantle, Wi' flannel toy tied on her cantle ; The other's face was sour and crabbit. And she had on a ridin' habit ; I'm unco sure this ane was Nannie — She looked sae wud and sae uncanny. it'tff' .4h [04 NAN O LOCKKRMACUS. liiiiii H M illll'lii; Mm m iiii'j.iii iHMJUlllll I stood, 1 gazed wi' abject wonder To see them cleave the cluds asunder, They joukit here, and whirl'd there, They tossed and tumbled in the air ; At times they high o'er head gaed springin', Syne round the circle they gaed swingin' ; Auld Nan, the base black hearted jade. Seemed dext'rious at the lieeing trade, Tlie hag, the bleezing Satan's limb. Appeared to bein glor'ous trim; They baith were in the highest feather, They played and friskit wi' ilk other ; 'Twad gien a very saint ^he frantics To ha'e observed their deevilish antics ; Ance they drew near, and by my faith 1 thought fu' sure I'd be their death ! My gun wi' muckle speed I cockit, l^he stock I to my shoulder lockit, I took an aim, and I'll be bound The twa wad soon ha'e kissed the ground, I'm unco sure they'd got their clink. If they had hover'd just a bhnk. If they had tarried for the shot I'm sure I'd blawn baith to pot ! But guide us a' ! there's monie a slip Tak's place between the cup and lip ; The gun struck back wi' sic a jar Which knock'd me endways 'mang the glaur ; And as I groaned wi' bitter spite. The twasome flaffered out o' sight ! ' Then a' the folk cried, " guid forsake us. Nan's weel awa frae Lockermacus ! " Witch Nan is gane ! the dominie chuckles. He's yerkit superstitions knuckles, He, with the aid o' press and pu'pit, Has Witch and Warlock fairly routit ! And wiodom cries, " their loss is gain," To which the Bard writes down — Amen. THE POOR O THE PARISH. 105 4^ /'-^ T HE Poor o' the Parish. des, Inscribed to W. Bracky Esy.j Duntroon, Ont. Kj JhE Poor o' the Parish are mickle to main, ll^ In a dt^t or a de^i they dvvall by their lane ; Their friends are but few, and but little they care How the auld bodies fend or the auld bodies fare. The back-end o' life e'en has mickle to dree ; The youthfu* ne'er dream what auld age has to see, The warld's vain hopes in their bosoms they cherish. They ne'er ha'e a thought being Poor o' the Parish. The Poor o' the Parish are laden wi' care, Their eldin's but scant and their cleedin's but bare ; Yet they grudge nae the rich wha in luxury shine. But blest wi' contentment they never repine. There's auld Eppie,^ poor body, she works at her stockin', On the gate o' the grave, wi' eild she is rockin', In her Bible she reads — it's a' that can nourish The hearts o' the weary, the Poor o' the Parish. She gangs to the kirk cleedit barely eneugh, But her heart is weel clad wi' the robes o' the truth, Aft doon her wan cheek the silent tears fa', As she hearkins o' Him wha died for us a'. Her bairnies that's livin' are awa like the frem'd, The guidman o' her bosom death langsyne has claim 'd. But there's ane ever near — never backward to cherish And comfort the weary — the Poor o' the Parish. I I. ' * j.- i p .. '1' life III K1-; ir lill!!|i||i»Hi ' '"iiiiii''' m •■•M u ■f I- ,1 i!' ilillihii 'III .HI!;; ii vM m ■ m ' II ■I iK 'Will 'll in iiilill!!!!' III m m\> tx ]i!(i,r'' "'■ ii i.i Ijiii'i III )».. io6 TO JAMES WALKER, ESQ. She hopes soon to dwall in the mansions above, Where the poor are made rich through a Saviour's love, Where nae sorrow can enter, nae grief can oppress. Where a' is ae day o' unchangeable bHss. Aye, there's ane high aboon wha kens a ' our ken, What we gi'e wi' our heart it*s to Jlim that we len', Folk, dinna be scrimp, 'twill gi'e life a relish, To be couthie and kind to the Poor o' the Parish. • • • To James Walker, Esq^, Detroit. Sir:- ffi>AST night I took an unco turn, fl" Death nearly caught me in his girn, Man ! I did think my earthly pirn Had run its course ; At length I'm round this morning stirrin', No muckle worse ! By spells I thought it was the ague, By jerks I thought it the lumlJago, " Het saut," I cried, " frae Onondaga, Rub on ! rub on ! Jee I fly for doctors on a nagie Afore I'm gone ! " :Sae soon as I wi' speech was dune, A whirling I took in my croon ; I trow'd my breeks and my auld shoon Nae mair I'd fill, J bade farewell to knife and spoon And sneeshin' mill. TO JAMES WALKER, ESQ. My pores at length began a rinnin' On bowster, blanket, cod and linen, And 'fore the doctors a' cam* spinnin' My een to close, I gather'd strength to put a spoon in And sup some brose. And then to a' I did rehearse — Sometimes in prose, sometimes in verse — How folk that's bom about the Merse Are strong and hardy ; So friends ye needna yoke the hearse Yet, for the Bardie ! With this they a' with laughter fought ; The guidwife cried, " losh, I forgot To tie my stocking round your throat — There ! dearest rest." Her thankful tears fell burning hot Upon my breast. Then Hope did bark and worry fear. Then gentle sleep came cantering near^ And when the morning sun shone clear I ope'd my eyes, And found, that I, your friend, was here Below the skies ! Now, Walker, if the day keep fine, And if the sun no cease to shine, Expect me at your house to dine, 'Tween sax and seven ; Meanwhile, I am, in friendship — thine Sae lang's I'm livin'. 107 ', I- '''■•^- w * Ik "' ■* *.■ '■* I 1 io8 TO DAD BRICHAN, ESQ. "S*. pi I't ' till rt!i 'J l,:hi|,j:i ;:■ :Mi[;ii|l!||'| iiil! ijLi iiii it %M Wl i;;!!l To Dad Bi^ichan, Esc^ Wha cam' to Detroit, and wha left in a hurly burly ; and wha gat his fiddle broken, and then to male' amends beg^ to sing; and wha scoured the conntry far an' near to get the sang beginning wi' the words — '* My name is Bauldy Fraser, man, Tm puir, an' auld, an* pale, an* wan, I brak my shin, an* tint a han* Upon Culioden lea, man!*' He gat the sang, and if his wind-pipe no get crackit like his fiddle, he will sing it in grand style to his many friends and admirers at Petrolia, Ontario, on St. Andrew's day. ^Y honest, bletherin', canty Dad, Gosh, whan ye cam', man, I was glad, But, like a March hare I was mad Whan I did hear That ye had row'd about your plaid. And aff did steer. Did police loons threat to arrest ye. Did petticoated jades molest ye, Or what in a' the earth possessed ye To tak' leg bail And rin as if Auld Satan chased ye Doon to the rail ? Though I consider ye did wrang. Yet still I send ye up the sang. And hope ye will be in the fang To scraugh away. And sing it weel your friends amang. On Andrew's day. y; and wha to sing ; and eginning wi' kit like his and admirers TO DAD BRICHAN, ESQ., 109 Now, Dad, I'm unco laith to say, Wi' you I canna meet that day. To hear ye sing, and screed and pray, An' laugh and joke. As I maun stap to ha'e my say, Wi' our ain folk. But whan the snaw is aff the grund. And whan the spring blaws out her wind I'll wager you ae sterling pund I'll no be slack To tak' a cannie dander round Wi' you to crack. I hope and pray that ye'll attend it, And get your guid auld fiddle mendit. And no again awa to lend it To some fi.ile bairn, And get it ance mair rack'd and rendit, Frae stem to stern. And whan I come, ye'll yerk the strings, Sae grand ye'll play the Highland springs, Wi' glee we'll mak' the very tings Get up and scour. And jump and flee as if they'd wings. About the floor ! As sure's I breath, I here declare. Whan ye play up a Scottish air. The first note cracks the croon o' care. The second line Just mak's ma twa een glint an' glare Wi' joy divine ! I've seen whan I was fairly blockit, And no ae penny in my pocket. To buy my breakfast or my nocket. And friends were scanty. My harp ! losh, man, I up wad tak' it. And soon got vauntie ! ,4. .1 i^'b' 'It.. .<., 'f" ? fw. ii- Ik 'if .<•-■■ . %'■•■: no TO DAD BRICHAN, ESQ. ;, ,ii |!ii.!i.:ii!i'::;?iji; PI 111! , I'f-^'ii I didna grumble, girn and clatter, And hing my lugs about the matter. But wi' the Muses aflf Vd blatter, An' loup care*s hurdles ! And left the jade ahint, dod rat her, Wi' other mortals. Now fare ye weel, my fiddlin' daddie, Gi'e my respects to your fair lady, I hope ye row her in your plaidie In this cauld weather, An' at the fireside brew the toddy, Fu' crouse thegether. 1 hope that Buckham's skill and washes Ha'e gard ye smash your goggle glasses. And that nae mair ye'll tak' out passes And ride to Flint, And get your een row'd up wi' messes O' lard and lint. I hope ye'll 'ang enjoy your smoke, And in your chair fu' cheerie rock, And sing a sang, and crack a joke — My Niff-naif carle, And pu' your fiddle out the pock And gar her skirl. This warld is whiles a perfect staw, Care comes wi' ilka breath we draw. If 'twere na for a friend or twa — You're ane beHeve it, — I wadna care a single straw How soon I'd leave it. Now, Dad, I trust that whan we die. We'll ha'e nae trouble in the sky, But on the wings o' glory fly, Wi* a' our might, Where we will neither grieve nor sigh 'Mang realms o' light ! !ll!l THK SECOND SIGHT. II I The Second Sight. Inscribed to H. Moffaty Esq. "^ man o* tha Merse.** Though the fairies and bogles have vanished, yet there remain believers in what is termed in Scotland the " second sight." Those who possess this gift, as far as I can understand, somewhat resemble the " Medium " of the Spiritualists. Though the author is no believer in the supernatural, yet candor compels him to state that the main incidents in the tale, as told by '* Uncle John," are truthfully related. I may also remark that the spot where the ghost of the gifted student appeared, has been often pointed out to the writer of these lines. HE wintry winds were blawing unco sair, The trees stood shivering wi' their branches bare, A goustie night set in — the angry blast Was howUng fiercely frae the east to wast. Auld Uncle John was sitting on the bunk, Lunting his cutty wi' a brimstone spunk ; The fire upon the hearth was bleezing bright — A couthie comfort in a cauldriflf night, A stack o' peats stood up ahint the byre, We didna fail to kittle up the fire ; Now my auld grannie round the house was splutterin', And to hersel some unkent words was mutterin', And as the blast wi' vengeance sair was leatherin", She e'en sat down and thus began a bletherin' : — " 'Twas just a night like this, whan in my youth, I then was living wast at Horseupcleugh, The snaw, knee deep, baith hill and dale did cover, The mountains seemed to groan to ane another. ■r ► «* ,-> ;4»fc ^i ii^k- iS'ii 112 THE SECOND SIGHT. '"'w.h^ 'rrm ■h- ti 1 liiri! il m iiiiiiii piilii iiiiir li I II'!'!)! 1 The ice had spang'd and frozen pool and burn, And a' the yird was just as hard as airn, The icicles in ranks, in fronts and rears, Hung down like daggers, swords, and pointed spears, The wind in blasts gade whistling through the lane. The hailstanes clatter'd 'gainst the window pane, As sure as death at times we swarPd wi' fright I weel I wat, it was a judgment night ! " My neighbor lass was bonny Betty Broon, As nice a lass as ever step'd in shoon ! Her een were just a shade 'tween black and blue. Red were her cheeks, like cherries was her mou'; I eke may say, at mornin' or at e'en, Out doors or in, she aye look'd trig and clean ; She sang sae sweet, she aye was blyth and gash, Sae gallant gade, an' stood as streight's a rash ! And a' the lads, baith far and near, allow'd That Betty's hair was like the links o' gowd ! "She had a lad that liv'd at Cranshaw toon, Wha thought the warld o' his ain Betty Broon, A gentle lad, he neither drank nor smokit, And Bet and he wi' fond endearments trockit ; They had agreed to marry 'bout the Lammas, An' tak' up house somewhere aboot Auld Gammas,' To be particular (Grannie then did say). That Betty's sweetheart was ca'd Sandy Hay. " Twa men folk we had likewise in the ha', Ane ca'd Tam Dodds — the other Jamie Shaw, Out bye the wark was ower aboot the toon, Horses were supper'd an' were bedded doon. The kye had a' been look'd to in the byre. And we sat crackin' round the kitchen fire. Tam Dodd was weak in head but strong in lung. He never kent the way to hold his tongue, I've threaten'd aft to tear it frae the root, I'm unco sure, in twa, 'twad clip'd a cloot, I I \ ■♦■. THK SECOND SKIHT "3 ;ars, e, There's nought on earth wad stop his dinsome blether, Out o' a hair the ass wad mak a teather ! He'd jeer and jaw and say sic silly things, I e'en ha'e sworn to fell him wi' the tings ! But, as I said afore, we a' sat crackin', Out bye the storm did no appear to slackin'. Tarn Dodds gade out, but soon cam ciotterin' back, He shook wi' cauld and in the nook he crap, ' Hech me,' quo he, * the storm does roar and rift, Ye canna see a styme for sleet and drift. The night is dungeon dark, hech ! how it blows, I couldna see an inch afore my nose ! ' "And then he said to Betty, 'noo, ma woman, I trow this night your jo' will no be comin', If he should venture out frae Cranshaw toon. He ne'er again will see his Betty Broon ! He'll founder 'mang the haggs, or else, ma feigs, He'll break his neck out ower the Raven-craigs ! ' ' Tam Dodds,' quoth I, ' lock up your tinkler jaw, Or else I'll drive your head against the wa'.' At this the blockhead chuckled in his glee, ' Wha kens,' he cried, * but Betty wad tak' me.' Now Betty turned as mad — her een did flare. Quo' she, ' now, Tam, for guidsake sae nae mair, I wadna ha'e (her face gat red wi' anger) E'en your hale bouk for my jo's little finger ! ' Now Betty rose an' e'en gade ben the ha', I heard a scream, and then I heard a fa', I hurried ben, and there poor Betty lay. Pale as a ghost an' a' her breath away ! I ran for water wi' a pell-mell race. And deftly dash'd it on her brow and face. , Right glad was I, and thankfu' too, I ween, Whan light began to glimmer in her een ; I raised her up and set her on a chair. And O ! how drench'd was a' her gowden hair. The whiteness o' the lily left her face. The blushing rose took up the lily's place. !;♦■ ^- f ■ •■V ■ II. < i"' i-A ..^ ^ ( !■,■ . '4J i%;: ■$,M'^ . "N 114 THE SECOND SIGHT. A' w ■ , iU: '.'!tl 1 ■/ l!!l;'''' M And then she spoke, and oh ! she spak sae wae, I'll mind her words unto my dying day. She said, as she gade up to her bit kist, Afore her een there cam' a hazzie mist, She saw her Sandy on the Felcleugh-law, Wand'ring sae weary 'mang the trackless snaw, She saw him stand, wi' looks o' wild despair, He fell, she thought, to rise for never mair ! " What stuff," said I, "come now, gang to your bed, That gouk, Tam Dodds, your fancy has misled." But oh ! waes me ! unto the ha' next day There cam' a man to seek for Sandy Hay, His track was found — there on the Felcleugh-law They found the poor lad perished 'mang the snaw. Just at the spot where Betty saw him fa' ! " Then uncle John laid canny doon his pipe, And wi' his sleeve a tear away did wipe. And then he scratch'd an' scarted at his croon. Then said to Grannie, " how cam' on Bet Broon ? " Then ( kannie said, " for monie a day an' year. She grat and mourned for him she held sae dear ; In life they loved, in death the twa were pair'd — They sleep together in the auld kirk yard ! " My Uncle John then said " 'twas strange and queer How Sandy's ghost should to Bet Broon appear, Your story, Grannie, ca's up to my mind A circumstance o' the same kith and kind : I mind fu' weel — 'twas in the thirty-twa, I then was living up at East Scarlaw, My neighbor herd, I wat, was Andrew Reid, As guid a man as e'er possessed a head, As guid a herd as ever lampt the heather, And he and I were unco grit thegether. Now Andrew had a wife, her name was Tibby, An honest, decent, weel respected body. They had ae son, a weel far'd thrivin' bairn. He was a genius — how the lad wad learn ; rnK si'.c(jNi) .si(;m. »iS E'en at the tabic, wlicn lie supped his brose, 'Tvveen ilka sui) the book was at his nose. He gacle to schiile -his i)arents fondly hopit They'd live to see his head wag in a pu'[)it, And when the dominie crammed him fu' o' knowledge, They sent him aff to-Kdinboro' college. And aft we heard that John was never beaten. When he stood up to blether (ireek and Jiatin, Now ae professor tried John sair to tickle, And put to him some ciuestions hard and kittle ; John had him there ! for just as (juick as thought The ready answer back to him he shot ! The great professor ga'e an unco stare, Then speered at him where he had got his lair? Then John stood up, and answered him fu' cooj. That he'd been taught at Lockermacus school ; The learned man ne'er tried again to puzzle him. He soon found out that John could fairly muzzle him ! "Atween the sessions, John wad aye come hame. To read and write, and rant and rave, and raim ; He'd rise and preach till he was like to choke. He'd stand and pray unto his mother's clock ! Speak bout coal measures, quartz and chucky-stanes, Bout fossil plants, fish fins and herrin' banes. And strive to show, by inferance and conjecture, That Adam was of recent manufacture, Else his remains, upon investigation, Would have been found in some far back formation. And that of Eve, our poor deluded mother. The ne'er a hair o' her can man discover. Now monie a time 1 thought his clash and clavers Were just a pack o' senseless silly havers — Bothering his brains about the warld's formation. Instead of thinking 'bout his soul's salvation ; 'Twould be far better if such men would try To teach mankind to live, and how to die — Point to the future — do their best to find Some plan or project to improve mankind. It* r • ,-■•■' < .'♦ ^' '■■111 << If" r ,41. If""'- ii6 I'HK SKCONI) SKJHT. John wander'd 'mang the hills to rax his legs, And gather'd weeds, stanes, beetles, fleas' and clegs ; He piled the stanes in cairns in the garret. He'd tell ye a' their names just like a parrot. His father sometimes laughed fu' lang and crouse, And say, 'John's rocks wad yet bring down the house.' Although he had some crotchets in his head, He was as kind a lad as e'er brak bread ; The minister e'en said, wi' nuickle pride, 'John was a credit to the country side ! ' And e'en the Laird's vveel tocher'd daughter Nancy, Confessed that John had fairly won her fancy, At the kirk-door, or where she had a chance. She'd nod her head, and kindly to him glance, E'en at the prayers she wad stand wi' grace. And through her fingers spy his manly face ; Sic signs as these, I trow, gang far to prove That she was smitten with the pangs o' love. "About that time I courted a bit lass, And I was sair enamoured wi' her face. 1 thought frae her if death would spare his dart, I'd do my utmost to secure her heart ; When in love's coils I then designed to mention. And lay before her my mature intention — To fauld her to my breast, and then in course To mak' her mine for better or for worse. Ae day I spoke to John, just at the random, That I would like to ha'e her memorandum ; He then forthwith took up his chalk and pencil. And drew the face and outlines of my damsel ; I have it yet — but losh ! I'm aff the track, Ae day he went, 'twas lang ere he cam' back ; And when he came he couldna break his fast. He look'd concerned and unco sair dooncast ; His mother coaxed him kindly to his bed. But O ! that night an unco life he led. Poor lad ! he raved, a fever had set in. And sair afflicted were his kith and kin. JOHN A. URUCK, KS(^. 117 At length the night ot darkness fled away, The sun in trii.mph ushered in the day, At middle day the fever ran its course, And yet the lad was growing worse and worse, His mother, then plied aff unto the toon, Wi' anxious he 'rt, to bring the doctor doon. When comin' back alane, as sure's I'm born, She saw John standin' by the muckle thorn ; She spoke, she cried, she screech'd wi* a' her might. He glided off and vanished out o' sight ! She ferlied sair, she raised her eyes to heaven, She prayed that a' her sins might be forgiven, Aside the thorn she laid her bosom bare. She prayed that God her only son would spare ; Her words re-echoed o'er the lonely lea — ' Oh ! lift his load, and lay the load on me ! ' When she got home, how sad it is to say. His heart was still — his spirit gone away ! What tongue can tell the bitter scene of grief? The tears of anguish could not bring relief. Sorrow and sadness ! — weary was the sigh- The shrieks of anguish smote the very sky tkm f i: V • , r ;) • » • John A, Bf^uce, Esc^, J^amilton, !«!';« Sir .- She boundary line — the message crossed it, [^ That you the marriage flag had hoisted, Then wi' the news right hame I posted Fu' gleg and gay, And my ain winsome wife accosted And thus did say : — 10 ■-r '•< ')fii4t fe l'' • , *:. 'v' I'll!:' 1 i' « 1,' •':f ^;j <■',., [k^^i ^A € r •Wi;; 1^ >»5 11' 1> ;•* f' ">M, :^?i£^^«' '■'Ml 'i' r"' §hl !!ill( I ' ■<• r' l^'^^1M::i!;" jSS ll ■ i:r:::|ll*!fil|li, liliili It Sliiii: III iii*'"''fiiiiij' ;i!!iiii '••hi;.,'' I'" ^.liriiiii. iiii;iiil!:| !i ii' 'iSi|!;;''*>" ' Ki' iiLjIh Il8 JOHN A. BRUCE, KSQ. " Hurrah ! John's gat a better-half, Rin out and stick the auldest calf, And cook it weel — I'll tak' my staff And ca' our freens ; Guidfaith ! we'll hae a hearty yaff O'er beef and greens." Then my guidwife did clasp a dirk, And aff she sprang to do the wark, And aff I scoured to Cameron, Clerk, And Bruce McEwen, And other friends, to taste the stirk My wife was stewin'. It just was chapin' four o'clock. When at the door we heard a knock ; My guidwife ran to change her frock. And ca' her daddie. I turned the key; quo' I, "guid folk, The dinner's ready ! " Sae down we sat to roast and stew. We chewed the flesh and drank the broo, And whan our kites were burstin' fu', I ca'd the lasses, " Bairns," quo' I, " we've gotten through, Take aff the dishes." Then frae her seat our Luckie bangs. And to the press awa she gangs, And brings the sugar and the tangs. And glass and spoon, Then wi' baith hands the grey-beard spangs, And brings it doon. Now when the toddy was approved, And when the spirit in me moved. Upon my shanks it me behoved, To ca' a truce, "'Come, toast," quo' I, "ane lang I've lo'ed, His name is Bruce." J said, '< we fu.M Our thoughts :;;;:;«''■•-'' t'-egether, ^hat Bn,ce to me ::,'?3;;"^ ^"o'her; Man ! ho„. I ,if,J^«;ord and phrase. -a.the:;:Tr?'-"^ f "d to your b/east W ^""^ >'""r "&. -'"■^ t>va times :;':^,;'"" ''^ ^n we — ' • 119 Whe] g'lt done ^"d Tore the mr^v f ^"^'^ ^"^^kin'. 7.' party up was brok J 'greed ,o':„T,t'-'''°>' en. -^«.. wimye joy en. er e'e. Or, And glower and .,..^u^^' '» ^vi^ ae fit Th. ^^'i canniejee -cradle rock '' ,a"d smok( ., '^i '.',♦1 ••"If •Jim*. 'lis. ' 4 , » ■■f.\ 120 JOHN A. BRUCE, ESQ. ■if h**-^ / I' -l'* "»» Vi.;^ N"i' N fii .yiilip ■1*. Ye'U then be quits wi' care and strife, Ye'U feel the essence o' this Hfe ; There sits your bonnie Scottish wife Nae cares to cark, Wi' needle, shears and ripping knife, Mending your sark ! 'Tis then the warld may birl aboot. For it ye carena a sheep-cloot, On ilk care ye plant your foot, Nae griefs molest, Ye'U let your pipe gang heedless out. Syne slip to rest. My Bruce ! I pray for freedom's sake, The Bruce's line will never brake. Their hearts from right no power can shake, No hand can turn ; The name that made the tyrant quake, At Bannockburn. I'm running out o' rhyme and clashes, My muse is sometimes dour and fashous. Although at times awa she dashes. And no sae han'less ; Now, Sir, accept kind hearty wishes Frae Andrew Wan less. 'ii'i »^''ii;S!' WHO SHOULD AND WHO SHOULDN'T 121 t'-*%\i Who ^hould and Who Shouldn't, Inscribed to "John Bannermariy Esq, >N days bygone, when tyrants held the rod, The subject trembled at their very nod ; These days are changed — the manners growing worse, <5^ Hirelings pay homage to the longest purse. I know a man — a sage profoundly great, — Who has for years contended against fate, From morn to night, with willing heart and hand, He'd strive to be " a something " in the land. Free is his heart from black deceit and guile — Vice has Ins frown and virtue has his smile. In learned circles still he holds the sway, And ticklish points can make as clear as day ; If doubters doubt, how quick upon the boards He'll trip them up, and knock them down with words ; Yet no offense is found, he ne'er is slow To pour the oil upon the fallen foe. At evening's close, how oft with him I'd walk, 'Twas then I heard the majesty of talk ; On " this " he'd touch, on " that * he would descant, His sounding words ne'er drivel'd into rant. He'd take a pebble from the common ground, And on it gaze and turn it round and round, From small beginnings, clearly he would trace Its age, its properties and race. Proclaim it is volcanic in formation, Then sum up all with pointed peroration. ■ .*■• ■ 4 ill-- {. ,;|i»if»' ■.'t f'i^ ■ r I • ^ il%j- ..,,H. i'lHl ■ ■< > I 1;! ,1 j:^!i^ii >: liifljiv;''^'' ilriw;!!!:.;;;:; !'■■':'' ft-;.. il^iiiiii 'It*. 122 WHO SHOULD Ax\D WHO SHOULDN T. The leaf upon the tree — the grassy plant, With wisdom's aid, on these he can descant ; He knows a beetle from a creeping thing, How reptiles bite and how the hornets sting. The warbling birds that sing upon the sprey, With cautious step he'd listen to their lay. Or, stand in silence lest they'd fly away. He e'en can show how nature's grand design Has drawn 'tween species a dividing line ; Points out how Darwin in a wild delusion Attempts to jumble all in a confusion ; Quizzes the "tail," denounces Darwin's plan, Rejects his theory and condemns the man Who digs in chaos, and forgets his God, And sends his buncombe theories abroad ! How oft I've wished upon our evening walk. Instead of me, that Darwin heard him talk. The stars appear — the countless eyes of heaven ; He knows the pole — and well he knows the seven ; At this one points with a becoming gesture, How it runs loose, and that one is a fixture. At times he'll laugh and say some curious things. Scout at the " tails," yet wish that he had wings To fly through space and sweep through Saturn's rings, And in his towering flight and trackless way. Stop and pay homage to the god of day ; Then back to earth, to spend a space at home — To take the pen and write a wond'rous tome ! When wars begin, how quickly he can trace Who will be victor in the bloody race, Denounces men who by the cannon stand, And sweeps destruction o'er a wretched land. Denounces men who fawn, and steal and fib. And feed and fatten at the public crib. («-. WHO SHOULD AND WHO SHOUI.DN T. 1^3 laven ; [ven; 5S, I's rings, Questions he settles, "yes," and sometimes "no," And say — " this statesman should do so and so ;" And in my ardor I have often said : " This man has brains to be a nation's head ! " And yet this sage has fallen out of date, He dines with want upon a pewter plate, He stands behind the scenes — has grown gray, And like a vision soon will pass away, Or, like a light upon some distant coast. That flickers — fades — then is forever lost ! * * # * >;• ■■;■ There lives a man, his name I need not tell, For every town and village know him well, He first appeared upon the public view. To run an errand and to black a shoe ; Quick with his ear and ready with the talk. He learned to swear, before he learned to walk ; Without a cap, or shoe upon his feet, He'd toss the copper on the (^uiet street. He'd lurk in barns or on door steps recline, When pity spoke, how well the knave could whine, With hungry throat gulph down compassions meal - Laugh in his sleeve — then turn aside to steal. Behind a fence, in some secluded yard. He learned to deal and know the winning car THK HRKKK.S. f ^' Vj V 0i !■♦,* lliii! -71' !|,«' '' rN Hi;. :i:it| ;!ffi,.:i,|'r If "^ 1^ .', "1 " 'f It' ■ 1 ff ■■ h - mM'm ill iH I! ma Now a' yc sages far and wide, Wha on your hobby horses ride, Wha cock your nose and look sae wise Aboot the hidden mysteries, Wha can explain, wi' great pretension, Things far ayont our comprehension. And kittle questions cjuick can solve. How planets round the sun revolve. Why light'nings flash and thunder rolls. And how the earth aboot the polls Turns round and round like a claes reel, Or like an auld wife's spinnin' wheel. My certy ! they tell mair than that. They say the warld's ends are flat. If sae, guidfaith she's better manners. Than lasses wha wear pads and panners. E'en ministers, whan in the pu'pit. Roar till their throats are dry and roupit ; The lives o' defunct Jews expoundin', And godlessness with God confoundin' ; Preaching 'bout men whose very name Stands tapmaist on the rolls o' shame ; And what is curious and surprising, For their black deeds apologizing ! Ye ministers, come, mend your manners. And never mind the ancient sinners, Come, try your eloquence and art, Upon the living sinners heart ; So by your precept and example Ye may convert a better sample : A living dog, ye ken it's said. Is better than a lion dead. Yet, deil a ane o' ye can tell, Nae better than I could myseV, Why the guidwife upon the cleeks Left to the last the guidman's breeks ? Which shows that men and geese may cackle. And yet no just ken extra muckle ! »'■ iijii'i' I ii.iii:i;iiiiiiiti.M;ili • JEAN AND \LD. 129 Jean and Donald ; OR, THE SMASHING OF THE TEA-POT. A TRUE STORY. Inscribed to Neil Taylor^ Esp A number of people of the present generation, I have no doubt, can well remember the time when tea was considered a great rarity in Scotland, especially in the rural districts. Those who were in the habit of indulging in that beverage were looked upon by many as deluded mortals, and considered to be no better than the opium eater of our own period. In fact, the greater number of the inhabitants knew as little about tea as a cat knows about a snufF box. In corroboration of this, an old woman, called Tibby Gourlay, who lived in the parish of Westruther, one day fell very sick of an " onfa," for which no remedy could be obtained. The distressing news of Tibby's sickness reached the ears of the lady of Spottiswood, who immediately dispatched a servant with a quantity of tea to be administered to the invalid. The tea was tumbled into a porridge pot along with a quantity of water, and then boiled for a considerable time j the water was then thrown out of doors, and the leaves mashed up with butter, pepper and salt, and this mess was then served up to Tibby, who ate the whole with great energy and delight. Next morning, strange to tell, she was able to be up with the sun, and accomplished a heavy day's spinning on the big wheel to the satisfaction of herself and all concerned. She died about thirty years ago, aged ninety-nine. The following is written, not upon Tibby, but upon Jean and Donald, who were born and brought up in another part of the Heather Isle. IZ A- it'- f„. ^ t-r ,s^ 7i !*,( :* ^ if' f" '•1- *■' i •ill' >l, • »* i t 130 JEAN AND DONA I, n. >N Islay's fine and fertile isle, All in the county of Argyle, There Donald lived, wha had a wife, The dread and torment o' his life ; Afore he claimed Jean as his l)ride. She e'en had traveled unco wide. And learned to turn up her nose At pease meal bannocks and at brose ! Ae year she winter'd 'bout Dunbarton, And tied her stockin' wi' a garten ; She even tried hard to get married, But a' her purposes miscarried ; She had no friends about Alaska, But had an aunt wha lived in Glasgow, Sae faith, she mounted on a coach. And to that city she did hotch. When there she fell in deep dejection, For she had lost her aunt's direction. She speered at folk and bairns in plenty. If they ken'd aught aboot her aunty ? At last by kind o' luck or fate, She faund her in the Gallowgate. Her aunty was a lonely woman. She didna ken her niece was comin'; She gave a jump — she stood amazed When on the stranger's form she gazed ! Then both did raise an Islay yell, When in ilk other's arm they fell ! Then Jean exclaimed, "my woe is past, I've found my aunty at the last." :';^.. w<» m \ How nice it is on some occasions. To meet with one's own blood relations. But sweeter far 'tis to the lover. To meet and kiss and hug the other ; High is that love, 'tis oft hysteric, And far above my panegyric. JKAN AND DONALD. 131 ^t past, Ions, O ! love, fain would I thee extol — The prop and centre of the soul ! Tiie aunt then said, " my darling niece, In si/e yeVe made a great increase, 'I'is only twenty years by-gane Ye couldna stand vour leefu' lane ! Guidfaith ! ye're now a winsome straper As ever gaed in gown or wrai)per, My certy ! ye're as fine a lass As e'er keek'd in a looking glass ; Gang down the stair, my niece, so dear, And bring me up a jug o' beer, A drop o' beer in glass or measure. Will calm my heart that loups wi' pleasure. And after that, 'tween you and me, I'll mask a hair o' guid black tea." These words were barely out her lips, When down the stairs Miss Jeanie trips. And brings her aunty up a jug O' beer filled to the very lug ; Sae soon as they the liquor tasted, Their tongues for no a minit rested. When aunty gat the tea things ready. Miss Jean sat down just like my lady, And aye she took the other sup, Then raised her neb up frae the cup — Twisting her head — see there, look at her, Just like a hen whan drinking water ; Her aunt gecked at her with affection, Jean thought hersel' complete perfection ! 'Tis strange that poor deluded craters Will ape the manners o' their betters, And turn and twist, and put on airs. Like horses ai the country fairs ! 'Tis a disease bred in the bone. It rages rife frae zone to zone, ••< »«?•*' il ^ If.- ' f i 132 JEAN AND DONALD. <: ,' '•p..-,- ■^■- I- . 1 \M ■-t'i ,«ll Pi:' %'"' ,11, . , ... WA; |'",'(!SIU., 'It;. P^'h Wi' this e'en Hornie was diseased, Whan frae the heaven's he was heezed, But faith, another sang he routit, Whan 'mang the brimstone he was coupit ! Folk ! folk, I pray, tak' my example. And no in Satan's footsteps trample. The bard wi' kicks frae fortune's foot, Has gat his pride clean knockit out. If ony's left, whan a' is dune, It wadna lade a mustard spoon ! Whan at their tea, midst joke and crack, The auld aunt's mind gade wand'ring back To times whan she did hear the roar O' billows lashing Islay's shore ! Then she inquired *' if ducks and drakes • Aye swam about the coves and lakes ; And if the fowls in pairs and flocks Still bred amang the muckle rocks ; And if Neil Taylor still gangs out To blister horses, dogs and nowte ; And if his wife, and bairnies monie, Are a' as guid as they are bonnie ; If Duncan Campbell blythe was singin', And to the island still was hingin', And if his thirty-second cousin Had now o' weans a baker's dizen ? " To a' these questions, and far mair, Miss Jean made answer on the square. For sax lang weeks the twa were bousin', Balth night and day they were carousin' ; At length whan tea and toast gat scanty, Miss Jean did say unto her aunty : " I trow I'll gang the road I came, I'm grienin' sairly to gang hame, I've gi'en ye now a guid lang ca'. I'm sure it's time I was awa." :'hii||,i:!; >i,i|ii .. It ;». JEAN AND DONALD. n3 The twa shook hands, then aff Jean flounced, And down her grannie's stair she pounced. She darted for the Broomielaw, Whan she gat there how she did blaw : It was nae lang ere down the Clyde, Wi' Jean on board, a ship did glide. Sweet stream ! O, may thou aye meander. On earth there is nae river grander ! By thee a bonnie lass I courted, Wi' my fond heart she played and sported ; My lovely, fair-haired, blooming Susan Did prove to be a mere delusion ! I'd sing o' Clyde with livelier glee If Susan hadna slighted me ; False maid ! she shot a cruel dart That still is stickin' in my heart ! Both night and day I have a doubt That time will never drag it out. Now twenty hours it took, or more. To land Miss Jean on Islay's shore ; As Donald stood upon the key His future wife he chanced to see. Though he was unco short o' sight, He saw her frae the ship alight. She hadna been on shore a week, Till he on her again did keek, Then o'er the lugs in love he sluced Sae soon as he was introduced. Arouse, my muse ! spread wide your wing, 'Bout Donald and his darling sing. His love was not an idle dream, 'Twas higher than the rainbow's rim. Yes, Donald's love, before he wed, Was deeper than the oceans bed ! 'Twas brighter than an infant's eye. And fairer than the summer's sky : Jean's heart was like a stream run dr}-. ^ii •J* ,*' !«**■ :i^| !til' .:1 :;* i. 134 J KAN AND DONALD. f ' ■*?':- V ■ ■ i^-^v fe:vf >♦■ •'.V« ^.'5 r*** It V' ', f-, H.,,, ■ k '^'' VI. '*i . 1.' *. * m.. Lsj ^■* «" |ii|j|||! 'f|i:: ^';1^ ' * |:in:: 1. 1^; , . I'si,' ^1, ':-!:■ , , ■ ' " -! 1 imb^ ■ How Jean did giggle, smile and smirk, When she led Donald to the kirk, And when the nuptial knot was tied Wi' love poor Donald shook and sighed, But Jean did stand, the graceless limmer, Thinking 'bout nothing but her dinner ! When they gat hame to marriage feast, I needna say Jean did her best. She tried the pork, the beef and ham. Pig's feet, hen's legs and roasted lamb ; But for the baddies and the herrin' She said she wasna' muckle carein'. Then she devoured as a desert A moderate share o' tea and tart. Ten years flew by o' married life — Ten years o' badg'ring, bick'ring strife ; Love out their door slink'd aff wi' passion, As care and hardship took possession ! Poor Donald gat as lean's a craw. And ilka day away did fa', He just was perfect skin and bane. Yet still, he ne'er complained o' pain. Though want was in poor Donald's spoon, Jean's face was like the rising moon ! She managed weel, in spite o' fate. To aye hae plenty on her plate, She turned a kind o' tousy drab. And thought 'bout nothing but her gab ! It fell upon an afternoon Whan Donald's wark was early done, As he was cannie slinkin' hame. He thought he'd cheat his sturdy dame, And buy a half a pound o' butter. And ha'e a kind o' secret supper ; He gained his door and in his garret He creepit like an evil spirit. JEAN AND DONALD. ^35 He glow'red about — his wife was missin' He thought that wac a heaven's blessin', Then frae the press ht took a platter And on it slaster'd a' the butter, Then set it down upon the dresser. When rinnin' out to get some meal He ran against daft Rab McNeil ; " Gang in," he said, " I'll soon b^ back, Syne Rabbie, we will ha'e a crack." Poor Donald (e\t a wee contented, As things were working a» he wanted. Now ben the house daft Rab'.'^e goes — He saw the butter 'fore his nose. And then the poor misguided lad Did hide it underneath the bed ! Back Donald cam', wi' strange surprise, He scarcely could believe his eyes, He glow'red, he gave a dismal groan — Then roared, " where is the butter gone ? '* Now Rab did on his cande clat, " The thief," he said, " must be the cat.'* Then Donald swore unto his frien', If on the brute he'd clap his e'en. He'd wring her neck just like a craw, And dash her head against the wa', He'd gi'e her sic a fearfu' blatter. She ne'er again wad steal his butter ! " For that," quo' Rab, " ye needna grane — See ! there she sits on the jamb stane ! " Then Donald whispers, "Rab, be quick. And rax me ower that muckle stick, And I will gi'e her sic a billet Will mak' her life flee up her gullet ! " As Rabbie handed ower the rung, Grim silence sat on Donald's tongue, His mouth and e'en were open wide, As on his tiptoes he did glide, * I' I- - « { ■ Mr*-.. ,?** H^ »■% 1i i 136 JEAN AND DOXA[,D. ,# >' 4 \:zt ii'ii v.: \ r ^X'i !|» !i.l He raised the rung aboon his croon, Wi' fearfu' yerk the rung cam' doon ! A something ga'e a crack — a crash — A something on his face played splash ; Then Donald yelled, "I'm dead ! I'm gone I I'm burning to the very bone ! Cat's blood is just as hot as fire. Oh ! Rabbie, come, till I expire ! " Then Rabbie roared, " YeVe missed the cat And smashed to atoms the tea-pat ! " Then Donald howled, " the deil tak' me, I never kent Jean swallow'd tea, I ken it now, and here I swear it, Henceforth she'll never drink na mair o't, I'll put an end to her extortion. For death this night will be her portion ! This night I'll mak' her change her pasture, My faith ! but she's a fine tea waster ; She'll live on tea and finely fare. While I maun gang, I do declare, Just like a wraith ai^oon the gnmd, And live on brose and heaven's wind ! Her black misdeeds ha'e now nae clock. She's let her cat clean out the poke ! " As Donald ended this harangue. His wife into the house played bang, And as the twa began to roar. Prudence step'd up and shut the door. EPITAPH. Donald is gane — his cares are o'er — He sleeps on Islay's fertile shore. Cats he'll ne'er mistake again For teapots standin' on jamb stane, Nae butter he needs in his brose, His sad career is at a close ! And Jean, his wife, now lies at rest Upon his cold and lifeless breast. 4'. A WEAK MAN AND A STRONG WOMEN. 137 *1m^ I* 4 A Weak M.an and a Strong Woman. Inscribed to C. Tyncr^ ^'9-* Hamiltcn^ Ont.y an unco auld friend, E met beneath the trysting tree. The light o' love was in her e'e, I knew her love was a' for me, That Peggy would be mine. We wandei'd o'er the flow'ry brae, To where the rippling waters play, I kissed her lips, she ne'er said nay, I thought she was divine. I saw the blush upon her cheek, I heard her words sae mild and meek, Wi' joy I scarce could stand or speak. Such love there was lang-syne. Soon we were wed, what next befell I think black burning shame to tell. For soon her tongue went like a bell. With grief sair I did pine. She aften swinged me afif my chair. She filled my heart with black despair. And loaded me wi' tons o' care, As ye may well opine. If she had yatter'd wi' her tongue. And been less free to use the rung, To her, through life, I might ha'e clung, And thought my lot was fine. I've heard some wives when things went 'rang. Would whistle up, or sing a sang, But Peg, wi' rage, my throat would spang — Afore 1 counted nine. m .It m i '1 > • V»,' >• /■ t -v;-''i C, ; i!;^'; f*-..i !>♦ * 1. !f*i ji li' **•. f' K.. ' Iw< ''fi.' '%- : *: 1- ..•»i J %: ■■ Ir'l 1 ¥: [•■■'* -.^.., pi ' '-' '.5 n ; y , ::,■"■-: ]}- •1s^''i 138 A WEAK MAN AND A STRONG WOMAN. ^m y^ *-4'^'ii :;»€ ^i)i ■•# I'll saddle up my pacing horse, And heckle her wi' a div^orce ; Then she may live with black remorse — She'll never more be mine. By night and day, I'll seek a wife Who will bring comfort to my life. We'll feast on love and fast from strife — And aye with Cupid dine. But Peg saw me girth up my steed, Slap-dash she came with headlang speed ! And like a vice she held my head And grasped the halter line ! She cried, " ye sumph, gang in the house," I sleekit in just like a mouse, Hech me ! I didna craw sae crouse. But sore did fidge and whine. I thought it best to bow and bend, And think upon my latter end. For Oh ! she gave me such a send As nearly broke n\y spine. ** Oh ! Peg," I yelled, " take in the horse, I ne'er will ride for a divorce. Have mercy, or ye'U end my course — Wi' that lang halter line." As Tam ga'e the last sentence vent, Instanter, Peg did sair repent. To hug and kiss they briskly went, Fu' canty and fu' fine. Now ilka man, baith far and near, Just gi'e your wife your breeks to wear, And let her still the helm steer. As Adam did lang syne. Your life will be a honeymoon. If ye just coax her into tune, And feed her wi' a soothing spoon — And swear she is divine ! A RtFORMATION. 139 "^.['-i. * 9 h Refoi^mation, Inscribed to ff^ylie Niehoriy Eso. e, PON a cold and rainy night, When moon {ind stars were out of sight, A-coming down the lonely street, A little child I chanced to meet ; The wee bit lassie's feet were bare, The rain had droukit a' her hair. And as the child came running near, I trow her heart was tilled wi' fear ; A something whisper'd me to stand, I took her kindly by the hand, Then said, " my child, what is amiss, To bring ye out a night like this ? " The lassie hung her head wi' shame. Then said, " Oh ! sir, come to our hame ; " I strok'd the bonnie bairnies hair, I carried her wi' cannie care ; The rain in torrents still did pour As we twa reached her father's door. Within the house I heard a moan — A shriek — a wild unearthly groan ; I saw a sight — a man was there Sunk in the depths of black despair. His bloodshot eyes were staring wild, Anon he wept just like a child, And then with terror loud did yell. Contending with an inward hell. M m .If- [. t Hi 'VI Si ,A # 140 A REFORMATION. Then on the ground lie down would lie To wrestle with his agony ! He trembling crouch'd with fear and dread, The demons hovered round his head, He prayed, he cried on bended knee — " O God, have mercy upon me ! " I said, ** may heaven hear the prayer. And calm the bosom of despair." The litde child, Oh ! how she wept. As to her father's side she cript, He clasped her to his frenzied breast, And tenderly her lips he pressed ; And as the tears fell down like rain, He cried, " no drink I'll touch again ! " His " ministering angel " came. He called her kindly by her name, Then said, " from drink I stop this night. Henceforth I'll be a Rechabite." He kept his word, contentment reigns, He broke the drunkard's galling chains, Now peace and plenty smile once more, And poverty has left his door. Join, brothers, then with heart and hand. The seed of Hope sow in the land, And strive with all your might to save The drunkard from the drunkard's grave. % tii* A .sri)'|( M SANCSlKk S (OMfN 141 ;ad, rht, gns, iS, [ hand, ,ve. A Scotch Sangstef^'s Comin' Inscribed to T. Alt Gregory Esq.y President of St. Andrew's Scciety^ Detroit. N Monda\ , in St. Andrew's Ha'" Rally ! men and britliers a\ Send the news baith fiir and near A Scottish Sangster's comin' here ! Deck'd fu' braw in Highland kilt. He will sing us monie a lilt 'Bout aiild ScoUand's heath'ry hills, Birken glens and wimplin' rills, Where the lav'rocks sweetly sing, Where the bonnie blue bells spring. Hame ! we'll ne'er forget a\a "Till our latest breath we draw. While the dai.sy decks the lea. Scotia's sangs will never dee — Floating down time's silent river, Time and they will die together : Send the news baith far and near, A Scottish Sangster's comin' here ! Nane like him our sangs can han'le- He's the lad to hand the can'le ; Sangs o' Scotland he will sing, Will make the very rafters ring ; Sangs o' dule and dark despair, Will mak' us rug and rive our hair, Sangs wi' monie a weary mane. Wad melt a very heart o' stane ; M '^ ^¥ 12 m -*■; V I- fit .^. •?^ ^;:» i,^. i;^^' i'V ■*«>. ■ / 1 r: ' "*♦•''■, K ' ! 142 A SCOTCH SANGSIER'S COMIN'. Sangs o' love, o' joy, and fear. Heartfelt words forever dear. Come ye lasses blythe and braw, Welcome to St. Andrew's ha' ! His funny cracks will mak* for weeks The tears rin down your bonnie cheeks, Folk ! ye manna stay at hame, That wad be a bumin' shame — Send the news baith far and near, A Scottish Sangster's comin' here. m ■A ^n,. m ■-. *iii !'■ *%*>i %4 :^:^^-- ■K m k GRAIOIK CASn.F,. 143 ,-> SONGS. rRAiGiE Castle. ;:■ Air — Catherine Ogie. Upon a rocky bank of the clear winding Dye, in a beautiful and se- cluded dell, the ruins of Craigie Castle can still be seen. Some years ago, it was a favorite amusement of the school boys to hurl the stones of this ruin down the deep declivity, and with something akin to awe, watch them, as they rolled, dashed and plunged into the pool below, A little to the right of this ruin is Peel Hill, where a fine view of the sur- rounding district can be obtained. FVom its name there can be no doubt, that upon its top the beacon fire has often been kindled to warn the inhabitants that danger was near — th.it the enemy was approaching. There is every evidence to show that the Lammermoors, being so near the Scotch and English borders, must have been the scene of many a deadly conflict. There is a tradition that the Dye received its name from « 1 lit'' > M ^ 144 t.KAi(;ii; cAsii.i;. •i**'V ■1 , ;. . -v-vii Hi' '"' ■»*; iv " ■**!, t" ' <' 1 ^''' t \« ^ ■ r 1'' « •>■ * ^ < ^f ■ J''^:" }•: , 1^ H « -,..■ s ■ ■■■(A ,.i .1*- ■• ".T' its being literally dyed witli tlic blood of' the slain. To the west of Feel Hill is a place called Main-Slaughter-law, where the turf and peat dig- gers have frequently turned up the implements of warfare. In this vicinity, also, there is an Otterburn, and the writer in tlic *' Statistical Account of Scotland " surmises tl at this may have been the ground where the celebrated battle of that name took place. Some miles distant, upon a high elevation, stand the Twin-law Cairns, regard- ing which, tradition has it, that in view of the two armies of the Ficts and Scots a deadly conflict took place between twin brothers. One of the brothers had been stolen in his infancy by the Picts, and as the two fell to rise no more an aged warrior made known their relationship. Tradition also says that the soldiers of both armies formed a line of some miles in extent and handed stones from one to another from the bed of the stream of Watch to build the Cairns, which remain to this day. Regarding this tradition, the Rev. Dr. Jamieson, of Westruthcr, pub- lished in the work, before mentioned a beautiful ballad that escaped the researches of Sir Walter Scott, while compiling his " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," and which the reverend gentleman wrote down from the recital of two old men, who resided in that locality. , ' The following ballad is founded on a tradition that the lord of the castle before mentioned had gone to the wars, and left his young wife to mourn his absence for " twice seven long months " and that on a moon- light night she heard the drum beat. She ran to the turret of the castle overlooking the Dye, and while there she observed her lord make a dangerous hap across the stream at a place called the " Darin-step," and from this cause it is said, her strength forsook her, and the child she held in her arms fell into the abyss below. The ballad tells the rest. H E sun had set ayont the hill, The moon on high was creeping, When on her couch a lady flxir Wi' sorrow sair was weeping ; And aye she wrung her milk-white hands, And frae her e'en sae bonny The waefu' tears ran rowin' doon, Unseen, unkent by ony. west of" Feel ami peat dijj- writer in the have been the plate. Some IJairns, regard- of the Ficts ers. One of nd as the two r relationship, a line of some )m the bed of in to this day. istruther, pub- at escaped the strelsy of the ite down from le lord of the young wife to it on a moon- t of the castle lord make a rin-step," and the child she Is the rest. Is, (iRAI(;iK CAS II, K. >45 Her lord was e'en as brave a knii^lit As e'er wore kilt or j)la(lie ; Now he has ^^one unto tlie wars And left his winsome lady. He bade farewell unto his bride, He kissed lier lips sae bonny, He's kissed her ower and ower ag;iin. She's glen him kisses monie. Now he has buckled on his sword, His gallant steed is ready ; The waesome tears fell ower his cheek When jxirting frae his lady. Twice seven lang months had lied away ; Her wounded heart was breakin\ For still the thought wad come and go — That she was left forsaken. And aye she wrung her lily hands Ul)on the bed of sorrow, And sair she longed again to see The dawin' o* the morrow. She clasp'd her infant to her breast, vShe heard the distant drumming, Wi' joy she climbed the turret high To watch her true knight coming. She saw him leap the Darin-step, Wi' dread her heart did shiver, Then frae her arms the child fell down — Down in the raging river ! The heavens heard her shriek of woe, The warrior saw his lady Leap from the castle's dizzy hight, In death she clasp'd her bal)y ! 'u.i I"- i i ■J. ,1« 111? *J' ■. i fn>: 146 HKR HEART WAS ALL MINE OWN. ^•^ '^i!! K'l i r "f-^ Her Heart was all Mine Own. Air — Gloomy fVinter''s now aiva. ^\LOOMY days and weary nights, Sad and lonely I am now, \ Grief is monarch of my heart, Sorrow sits upon my brow. In the spring-time of my life, I woo'd a maiden fair to see. In the summer of my life — Death has ta'en my love from me. O'er the by-gone path of time. O'er the joy and o'er the care, O'er the tear and o'er the smile, Mem'ry lingers here and there. Her eye was like the morning bright When the mists away have flown, Her lips were like the budding rose. And her heart was all mine own. O'er her dark and lonesome grave Birds may sing and flowers may bloom, Nature may with joy rejoice. But my heart is in the tomb. By her heart forever still. By her eyes in darkness set, Till I draw my latest breath. My Mary I will ne'er forget ! 4. PEM,K ISI.K ABOON DKTROIT. 147 *.> "^■l WN. m, Belle Jsle Aboon Detroit. Air — Logan Braes. HE summer sun with golden beam Is dancing on the lake and stream ; O ! come with me, my lovely maid, And let us seek the sylvan glade. Beneath the branches, spreading wide, We'll watch the rippling waters glide ; Come ! let us see the wild rose smile — Upon the banks of sweet Belle Isle. With mellow note the blue-bird sings. How lovely there the violet springs ! And there the honeysuckles twine, 'Mang scented groves of eglantine. I'll pull the lilacs fresh and fair, And twine them in your golden hair ; While love will all our cares beguile — Amang the groves of sweet Belle Isle. We'll wander through the woodland green, And linger by each fairy scene ; Though nature's face be fair to see — My heart will fondly dwell on thee ! I'll gaze upon thine eyes so blue. Our vows of love we will renew — And Truth will speak, and Hope will smile Amang the groves of sweet Belle Isle. k !- «' It I I 148 MY^LOVE, OH ! COME TO MK. <».• ^y-'i: ■M .>*.^ . * "H I * My Love, 0! Come to Me, Air — Banks o* Doon. HEN victTy sheath'd the sword of strife, And gentle peace once more did reign, With feeble step, and weary heart, A soldier sought his home again. He stood beside a lonely grave. And o'er his cheek the tears did flow — His throbbing heart was like to break For her who sleei)s in death below ! In life her heart to him was true, In thought, in word — with latest breath She cried, " my love, O ! come to me," Then sank into the arms of death ! On battlefield, in danger's hour, The soldier never feared the foe, But now his heart is like to break — For her who sleeps in death below ! He kneel'd upon the lonely grave, He kissed the cold and lifeless clay. He Hnger'd long — then left the spot, The hand of anguish led the way. Thus onward to the weary end, The bitter tears of grief will flow, The soldier's heart is in the grave With her who sleeps in death below. J^ETRUU' Its IHK lOWN FOR MK. 149 '•Ml % Detf^oit is the Town for M.e, Air — tVillie ivas a fVanton JVag^, jjlHK river sweeps by Sarnia bank, ^ Then glides alang sae merrilye, The Hlies smile upon Stag Isle— And violets blush sae bonnilye. The roses smile upon Belle Isle, The birds sing sweet upon the tree. Though lasses fair dwell in St. Clair, Detroit is the town for me ! The pine trees wave on Huron's shore The clover blooms on Moretown lea, At Algonac men fondly talk. And court the lasses gallantlye. On Fromville brae the lammies play. In Walpole woods the robins flee, Though lasses fair dwell in St. Clair, Detroit is the tov/n for me ! Detroit river saftly glide, Ye birds sing love on ilka tree, Sing to my love in bush and grove. Your richest sweetest melody. Sing to my love your blythest songs, And fill her gentle heart wi' glee, Though lasses fair dwell in St. Clair, Detroit is the town for me ! if ■'■*.. ■ '' ■r It •' i*f- S' it: ISO JEAN IE HELL. 1k- '•«M» * * Jeanie Bell, Air — 0' a' Mf airts the winds can hlatv. LASSIE cam' unto our toon Whan flow'rs were blooming fair ; 'Mang a' the bonnie bkishing flow'rs, Nane wi' her could compare. The rose-bud in the dewy morn Smiles sweetly in the dell, But sweeter far the rosy lips O' bonnie J eanie Bell. She has sae monie winsome ways, Sae modest, kind and true, A perfect heaven's reilected in Her eyes sae bonnie blue. The birds that sing in green-wood shaw In sangs their love may tell, But words can never speak the love I ha'e for Jeanie Bell ! May a' that's guid aye guide her steps Alang life's thorny way. May ilka year in a' her life, Be a'e lang summer's day. Oh ! Jeanie dinna leave our toon, I ne'er can say "farewell," But stay and be a joy to mc. My bonnie Jeanie Bell ! JINKRAL ONKII-. ^51 t 4 ^ ■. I' lit .^1 JiNERAL P'NeIL. Air — yohnnie Cope, ■*%. 1... work, ^ Whin I meet yces in the marnin* ! " Och ! Jineral O'Neil are yees spakin' yet? Or are the Kanucks quikin' yet? If yees be spakin' mesolf will wait, To advance on Malone in the marnin'. Whin John Bull looked the letther ui)on, Shure he began to rout and groan, "Kanucks," he cried, "Neil's at Malone, We'll fight him in the marnin".' Och ! Jineral O'Neil, etc Now Jineral be as thrue as steel. It's yoursiU^will make the Kanucks squeel, It's yoursilf will give thim a hot pill Ave shot an' shell in the marnin'. Och ! Jineral O'Neil, etc. Whin O'Neil did hear the Kanuck John Wad be afther fighting at Malone, He got a dray to jump upon — To vamose away in the marnin'." Och ! Jineral O'Neil, etc. ^^tr,I if 1 i§-,Ll| I ^' "I ..3i: M' il: •< .'^ •• t • T?*4 ! .V I '-». I "* i< 15: JINKRAL (t'NKll,. Faith now O'Neil it was not fair To draw yer sword and 1 bloody spear, An' thin to run just hke a deer — Away from tlie Bull in the marnin'. Och! jineral O'Neill, etc. Whin Jineral OXeil to the station came, He swore his stomach was to blame, " Be the powers the wind's got in my wame, It blows right cowld this marnin'." (Jch ! Jineral O'Neil, etc. Whin in the jail, the brave O'Neil Began to yell just like a diel, " Bedad ! " he cried, " a snake or eel Is down me throat this marnin'.'' Och ! Jineral O'Neil, etc. " Och ! if St. Patrick would arise. This sarpint banish — blast me eyes, I'd mince the Kanucks up in pies An" eat thim all in the marnin"." Och ! Jineral O'Neil, etc. The Bull thin raised his tail on high, An" gave a rout that shook the sky. Thin Neil began to pipe his eye, An' shake wid the ague in the marnin'. Och ! Jineral O'neil, etc. Shure now O'Neil it was not fliir. Upon the line to rip and tare, An' thin to flee, the L— d knows where — An' leave yer men in the marnin'! Och ! Jineral O'Neil, etc. THE MEN O THE MKRSE. 153 ■4*"t. ;{5i|. nin The M.EN o' the Merse, Air — Laird 0' Cockpen. In'- -b JV, Stevensortj Esq . 1' nse, Scot/and. [HERE the Watch and the Dye and the Whitadder rins Doon to the Tweed where auld England begins ; There lived the heroes, that whither or no, Wad fight for their country and lounder the foe. In the front o' the battle, sae gallant and true. The Merse Men where there wi' their bonnets o' blue ; The tyrants we read o' in prose and in verse, Ne'er wanted /7aa sh-okes frae the Men o' the Merse. The Men o' the Border ! no tyrant could scare. They ne'er run awa though the Percy was there, When Liberty trembled, they never knew fear, They aye did their best wi' the sword and the spear. The Men o' the Border ! auld England kens weel, Are made o' guid stuff frae the head to the heel. At the war cry, "A Douglas ! " the foe would disperse, In terror they'd flee frae the Men o' the Merse. How sweet are the haughs and the glens o' the Forth ! How grand and majestic the hills o' the North ! The Clansmen may brag o' their big Lochnagar, But our bonnie Tweedside is sweeter by far. Our lasses are sweet as the rose o' the bower, Ye'll no find their match in the warld out-ower, And men wha in English or Gallic converse. Maun a' knuckle doon to the Men o' the Merse ! »3 % *u. w ,iii . in* «i- ■5i, I $4> ■ 'H '! A..^ . 1 i«^'^ ^■m ■* ^*- ■^*!A :'«' ■ «( .::^.^. t^ jt ^^kr' :'r?. . %., .a** •j,^ II >i f •1" f 1 .£ F^ ,"*. i.: ■1 154 THE HANKS O* THE DYK The Banks o' the Dye, Air — Banki o' the Devon. .„HE sun o' the summer had set by the mountain, 1^ And the gold clouds o' gloamin' were fading away ; And the sigh of the winds, 'mang the broom and the breckan, Were humming a dirge o'er the fa' o' the day. The moon had arisen sae pale and sae pensive, And the twinkling stars shone bright in the sky ; How waesome my thoughts, and how weary I wander'd Alane by the banks o' the clear winding Dye. The hazels were bending a-down in the streamlet, Their tassels wav'd meek in the moon's silv'ry beam ; And the cliffs of the rocks hung silent and dreary, As if wafted to sleep by the lull of the stream. The Dye ran sae dowie, that ance ran sae cheerie ; How dreary she murmurs by bank and by brae ; The flow'rs and the daisies wi' dew-drops are weeping. There's naething looks gladsome since Mary's away. How weary I wander, how sadly I linger. Each wave of thy stream speaks of her that is gone ; Each sigh of the winds, as they ripple thy bosom, Brings a tear for the joys that forever are flown. No more can these joys again gladden my bosom, For now I am friendless, forsaken and lone ; My heart no more throbs with enraptur'd emotion, Since Mary, my Mary, forever is gone ! ntain, ng away ; >m and tvander'd let, ea earn ; Irie; feepmg, iway. jone; km. im. m, THK I,AXC. TAIL(JR (. WHIIl'.V. OD Bonnie Nell. Air — " There nvas a /ass and she was fair. ^OW clearly rins the stream o' Watch, By monie a brae and broomy dell, It's howes and knowes nae stream can match, By it I lo'ed my bonnie Nell. O ! Nellie I did lo'e thee weel. There's no a heart could lo'e thee mair ; At mirkest hour to thee I'd steal, Thou wert mine a' mine only care. But now I gang a' wae and lane ; My Nellie's frae me ta'en awa, I'll never see my love again, My heart has now nae joy ava. O Watch ! how clearly rins thy stream. By monie a brae and broomy dell, By thee T dreamed life's fondest dream, I woo'd, to tine, my bonnie Nell. -» ♦ »■ y/ The Lang Tailoi^ c Whitby. Air — Laird o' Cockpen, HE lang tailor o' Whitby gaed doon to Port Hope, ^ And he ca'd at an inn, and he rang for a chop. He drank a' the day ; then the lang tailor said : " Light a lamp, Mr. J^andlord, and show me to bed. .«i' r if'' i I •n,!*- :'^ I i.'*i **^*'.l ^ rji ■i ;;'"3 lie moors, kir'oors, ipit she I |iat you ? lou', In. sit doon, I goon. 1.1' I? 1* , V" . ■«» -.^ ! i . *». «■■ I iS* '•• Willi 164 MARY JA ARY. Air — Therein ne-ver be peaee till yamie comes home. (vl J' ^^^ gloamin', the sun had gone down in the west, ■^ And the murmuring stream hushed the woodlands to rest, The song of the mavis had ceased for the day, As the clouds in their beauty were fading away. The pale silv'ry moon was ascending on high, And the star of the evening shone bright in the sky ; By the banks of the stream, 'neath the wide-spreading tree, My own dearest Mary came smiling to me. With rapture I clasped my true love in my arms. How fondly I gazed on her heavenly charms ! For her heart was as pure as an innocent dream, And as light as the moonbeam that danced on the stream. How sweet was the hour ! O, how nameless the bliss ! How truthful our hearts, and how holy the kiss, As down by the stream, 'neath the wide-spreading tree, My own dearest Mary vow'd truly to me. Now dark is the hour, how forsaken I mourn, My love has departed — ah ! ne'er to return ; Her true trusting heart lies cold in the grave, By the banks of the stream where the willow trees wave. In sorrow I weep, yet my weeping is vain. No more to my bosom my darling I'll strain ; No more by the stream by the wide-spreading tree Will my own dearest Mary come smiling to me. l,.\M.MKRMOUR. I ^^5 home. the west, woodlands le day, ly. > [he sky ; le-spreading ms, ;am, iced on the the bliss ! iss, iding tree, trees wave. Ig tree le. Lammermooe\. AiK — Mary's iJrtjm. Respectfully dedicated to Mrs. AnJerjoii, Wyoming, On ,ZiJ|HK heather blooms upon tl m-\ Prhnroses spring in bielded dells, ic knowes The gowans smile on bank and brae, Amang the blue and bonnie bells. Down o'er the rocks the burnies fa', They toddle on, they rin sac pure, Through birken bowers and yellow l)rume That fringe the glades in Lainincrm')or. The lark sings in the lift sac 1)1 no. The mavis sings upon the tree, While lowly on the milk-white thorn, The robin chirps \vi' gladsome glee. I'll never see Auld Scotland mair, Misfortune's cloud does o'er me lour, Nae mair I'll hear the Unties' sang Amang the hills o' Lammermoor. Yet there in death's cold, cold embrace, Lies ane I'll ne'er forget to lo'e. Through weal and woe her gentle heart To me was constant, kiud, and true. Our sindered hearts are in ae grave. Yet I maun still my griefs endure, By day I mourn, by night m\- dreams, Are in her i^rave in i,ammermoor. H A ..,;1' it r i.'f • I i66 WI1,IA' HAS I'ROVKI) lArsK TO MK. I H "f m u* ■■■ 1 R-- i^^ •• I I Willy has Pf^oved False to M.e. Air — Banks o' Door. WAS in the time whan Ijlytiisome spring Cam' smiUn' a^ter frost and snaw, When birds were warbHn' sangs o' love On budding bough and gow'ny sliaw. When Lucy sang a mournfu' sang Beneath yon weeping willow tree, And aye the burden o' her sang Was, " Willy has proved false to me.'' She tore her hair wi' wild despair, The tears rolled doon her cheeks sae i)ale, 'Twad break a very heart o' stane To listen to her weary wail. " O ! Lucy, could the powers abune Dispel the cloud that shadows tliee,'' But aye the burden o' her sang Was " Willy has proved false to me." There is a grief nae tongue can name, There is a tear o' deepest woe, There is a sigh — the weary sigh — That slighted love alane can know ! "O ! Lucy, lay your hand in mine, Yon cloud wi' silv'ry linin' see ! '" But aye the burden o' her sang Was "Willy has proved false to me." thf: irvsiinc nichi". 167 The Tf^ysting Night. Air — Clean Pease Strae. HK nicht is unco mirk iiml cauld, 'Hie snaw l)cgin.s to fa'; I mickle fear that Willy, clear, Will ne'er can come ava. He said he'd come — he'll strive to come, I'm sure he lo'es me best, Hope beckons me aye to the d(H)r ; Love winna let me rest ! For O ! I lo'e him as my life — I'll lo'e him till my death ; \m sae uplifted whan he comes I scarce can draw my breath ! ( ) ! come to me my Willie, dear, Ne'er mind the irost and snaw, Yet far or near my heart tells me I lo'e ye best o' a'. 'i'he wind roars wi' an eerie wail. The snaw is swirlin' sair ; A cauldriff dread creeps ower ma heart That rU ne'er see him mair ! Ye angry winds, () ! cease to rave, Ye trees to moan and sigh. Thou moon blink in the lift abune, Ye blinding drifts flee by ! Sae I can hear him whistle clear. And see him on the lea ; '1 hat's Willie, now, 1 hear his step As sure as sure can be. 1 ken it's him — that's just his rap — •' Come Willy lad, come in ; () whisht ! I doubt, that rousin' kiss W'ill wauken a' ma kin ! " '.,i*ifi -'*;l i 'till; ..*' ".«^„ i68 T i,{)'e mv ai.kk i;kst o' a'. J Lo'E MY Alice best o' a', I? Air — Rodin Castle, ^WEET Nell is fair, her raven hair Fa's ower a neck as white as snaw, Though Nell's divine, she'll ne'er be mine, J lo'e my Alice best o' a'. In summer, down the burnside, When evening's shades began to fa', How oft I've pressed her to my breast. And vowed I lo'ed her best o' a'. O ! Alice thou art dear to me. My Alice, bonny, blyth and braw ; Though Nellie fain my heart wad gain I lo'e my Alice best o' a'. Her heart is true as heaven abune, My Alice ha ae guile ava ; And ilka day I vow and say, I lo'e my Alice best o' a'. Though AvintTy winds are raving wild And loud the angry tempests blaw, I'll o'er the hill wi' right guid will. And on my bonnie Alice ca'. How soon my Alice hears my step As I gang round the garden wa', And when we meet, 'tis joy complete, For O ! I lo'e her best o' a'. A. O' A', aw. be mine, )fa'. east, ■a in Id ' ' ■ 1 09 T"^ ftosE OP ^PR.NOWELUS. D'trm, Mich. - ^- ^'"'"'y ^ C,., MOUsux-et is the sprini,- when th . ,-, • f ^V^'-.>. COM Mas. or >W,neM,..e ,.,,.,,, ,,, And ~: tS^';-{, ;;-:;,'-->• ^^ "-,„ HoH- grand are thy bank o /i ' f °' S'"'^^-''- " Hon- oft 'niong thy „rov« r h °"">' '''"*^ '"^"^ = My o«.n darling, J 'an:, i he 'R^t"" •' »'"',■'-"-<•■. I I'^-re's some ,„a,- achnire t f •^l"-'"g»-ells. Marys, ^ " "'^' ''"''•''^i- smile of their A"c, so.„e ^sin, the praise of t„eir .ancy. and HtT hrow is as f.ir as ,h ) -^Pnngwells. And lier li,,s at. ' ';.''" '^I'^^' "f liHes, iisv- ;!--""'»*" So breath is as SAveet pure is my Jeannie, as th e rose on the fellv ^ei)hyrs of h eaven. be Rose of Springvvell But gladness iou Ic! Tver v'vYsif^^ ""T''' "'" '''•^- 'ie"-^ '>-^" of ;„y Jeannie^the ; .l'">: 1-"' If I'bere ^, etc. ose of SprinKwcII> Away with dull care ' let,,- i • , May hope be our nn'-h.^ ^'\^^^"^'^^^ all .som,u- ' Though^fortmrmav^^,rf ''''% '^ ^^^^ ^'^-^ And undying iove:^r;:^,f;]-[;;^-i^^ 170 I'HK MAllJ Ul W.WNK. By day and hy night I am thinking of Jeanne, The bright dream of hope ever sootliingh tells That her heart is my own, and she'll aye he ni)- darling, My Jeannie, my joy, my sweet Rose of Si)ringwells. There's etc:. •*~^~*- >h '-^ '%■ ■* » 1 'i Jhe j^AiD OF Wayne. TAe following song is wed to a beautiful melody hy M. H. McCAesney, Esy.f and published by Whittemore & Stephens^ Detroit y Michigan. 5OWN in \ on gro\e of maple trees, Beside yon winding glassy rill. AVhere fragrant l)reezes fan the air, From scented flow er and doffodill : Beneath the shade a maiden fair Sae blythely sang a loving strain, The warbling birds did cease their songs, To list the lo\ely Maid of Wayne. MethoLight 1 was in fairy land, With rajiture how my heart did beat, Methought I heard the echoes say — No lips did ever sing so sweet. Adown her neck the ringlets fell. And kissed a bosom free from stain, Her dimpled cheek and modest smile Bespoke the lovel\' Maid of Wayne. I saw her leave the grassy bank. And lightly trip across the green. While love among the leaf)- bowers Confessed that she was nature's queen. KI-LKA DKAk. 171 :11s my clarliiiL;-, ni^welis. f. H. McChesftey, lity Michigan. 1 saw licr \aiiisji from nn si'-lu. My heart can ne'er find peace agnin. Knclianted I could e\er ma/.c Upon the loveU Maid ot" Wayn e. (). were this lovel\ maiden mine, How sweetly would the moments glide The changing year would bring no change She a}e would > my winsome bride. How I would strain her to mv breast, But ah I the verv thought is vain, Her ardent lover lonelv sighs. And sings the lovelv Maid of \\'a\ne. -• » • >ongs. leat. |m, leen. Ellen Dear. Published in !-hf(t form hy C. J. fVhitufs & Co., Detroit. Mich. ^K(J^LKN IS my apple ripe. I'.llen is my i)ear, iM) Ellen is my heart's deligh).. I love her a" the year : $|cti Ellen is my bonnie lass, tairer than the .\Tay-— 4 Ellen's cheek is like the rose, I love her a' the day. When the dews o' gloamin' fa' on the budding tlow'r — Ellen's lips are sweeter far, 1 love her every hour. Ellen's eyes are like the stars, t"u' o' heaven's light, Ellen is my ain true love, I love her day and night. Some may lo'e the golden dross, some ma\' lo'e the wine. Some may tread the warrior's path, and some wi' tinsel shine ; Heaven grant me Ellen's lo\ e, Isllen's heart and hand. Then Til be. though e'er sac poor, the richest in the land. '7-' IHK I I.ONVKU () l»L N I KOON. Other lads niu) try to win glances li'*' Ikt c'c — Other lads can never steal niy I'JIens : a j frae me. When the spring cojiies round again, dancing in her pride, Klien will he a' mv ain. she'll he mv honnie hride. * fef' ^.Vi i:^ •*»« V.J.* . ■ * lii!i!l — • • • The Flower c Duntroon. y^/V — ^^ Bannocks o' ifdr/^;' Altai .'' 'I'HE hills rise sae honnie where Liz/ie resides, imm And the hurnie o' Battue, how sweetly it glitles ; ^jf', How lightsome m\- heart when the sun had ganc t doon— As r met my ain lassie, the Flower o' Duntroon. The west winds were rocking the pine trees to rest, AV'hen I clasped my dear lassie wi' joy to my l)reast ; How truthfu' my heart, for by a' that's ahune, I Now'd to love truly the Flower o" Duntroon. She blush'd aye sae honnie, her eyes glanced sae clear, When she said she'd be mine at the fa' o' the year; How the hours tied awa ; O ! the mornin' cam' soon Ere I parted frae Lizzie, the Flower o' Duntroon. How sweet is the rose, and the violet sae blue ! And sweet is the daisv when bathed in the dew ! liut the bud o' the May and the blossoms o' June- Are uo' half so sweet as the Flower o' Duntroon ! [UK rn" N'ln Of Mr(;Kr(;()R, •7.^ The pEATH OF McGregor, Air — ^^The CamphflU are Coming;." P\AN(1 awa to your blankets, McCiivgor, ni\ lad, Sli)) awa to your blankets, McClrcgor, my lad. Dinna rage round the hallan as if ye were mad, Haud awa to )()ur l)lankets, McCiregor, my lad. "Though your jo has run aft', though she's tlitit her tether, And ower the kirk-stile and awa wi' your father, Yet ye ought to ])e thankfu' that she's got your dad, Haud awa to your bkinkets, Mc(iregor, my lad. "Your vows I've nae doot were a' sealed wi' her kisses, A fig aboot that, man, there's })lenty mair lasses, Sae cock up your beaver and no look sae sad, Haud awa to your blankets, McCiregor, my lad. " McGregor ! ye've heard 'bout the proverb nae doot, That the fi.sh in the sea are no a' taken out, Man ! there's baddies, and herrin', and ])lenty o' shad. Haud awa to your blankets, Mc(iregor, my lad." We ha'e coax'd the McCiregor awa to his nest : In the howe o" the niciht he was greatlv distress'd, He dreamed he'd a wife wha ne'er waggit her tongue, lUit wha aften cam" )erk ower his head wi' a rung. Next moment he thought he was somebody's wife, 'Mang a hirsel o' getts wha tormented his life, Dumfounder'd I he roared wi' a grunt and a grane — "I'd gie my ten taes to be single again." McCiregor then tore a' his blankets in tatters, ' He's rippit the bowster and smashed the bed shutters. Unco sair he has wrestled and raged "gainst the jad. Wha had stolen his lieart and run aft* wi' his dad. " McCiregor ! McC iregor ! losh man, will ye no Lie still in your bed for a minit or so? "' Preserve us ! he's out, and he's aff, I declare : And the corpse o' McCiregor was never seen mair ! 'r % .M ill *v' :^;: . I. '■^n Ijt B' 4 iiiii 174 THK AUIl) MAN S COURTSHIP. The Auld IVLan's Courtship, Air—'*My Wife hai to" en the Gee.'' ^AE lad can court the bonnie lass Wha wons at Lammerlaw ; Her fate is sealed, she soon maim yield, And wed auld Daddie Ha. Auld Daddie rode across the ford, Ae night at gloamin' fa' ; Her mother grat, her father swat, When they saw Daddie Ha. When on his shanks quo' he "what news?" The wife said " nane, ava, Except our bairn, ye e'en maun learn. Can ne'er be Mistress Ha." " What's that ye said ? " auld Daddie cried, " I ga'e ye hunders twa. And in ten days, I'll hire a chaise, And mak' her >ristress Ha."' "Ten days," quo' she, "losh, man alive, Your son has got the start ; Last night your Tam sat on the tram, Our daughter in the cart.'' " ^Vhere did they gang?" auld Daddie cried, Quo' she, "across the bent." " If sae," quo' he, " the deil tak me, The like o't ne'er was kent." Auld Daddie sighed, and then replied, " I can nae 1 anger tarry, I'll e'en ride doon unto the toon. And notify the Shirra. n ^^'i WHKN \KI,I, W Am AUdHIKKN. Yet wcel I wat afore I u;an'jr Hand l)ack the hunders twa." Then quo' the man, " we never can, Tarn's ta'en the i-ear and a.' " Auld Daddie turned u[) his een, Syne ga'e his croon a claw ; When on his meer, he ga'e a sweei', And then lie rode awa. And as he rode alang the road, He brushed away a tear, And faith he thought tliat he had bought His whistle unco dear. /3 1 I ■:ll ♦ > ♦ When Nell was Aughteen. Original Air by J. Orr Firinie, Esf., Philadelj>/iij. t cried, HEN Nell was aughteen, 1 spak out to her mother, • She waved me away, and she said, '' 1 wad ratlier ^lIp-Ye'd no speak to me, but just speak to her father, **> And should he consent, I'm sure I'm content That ye get your ain will o' her, I carena though ye mak' a kirk and a mill o' her.'" I gaed doon the dyke-side and confronted her fother. Quo' he, "ye daft gowk, gi'e me nane o' your bletlier. To tell ye the truth, man, 1 carena a feather ; Without ony fyke. Ye may do as ye like, Ye may tak' your ain will o' her, I carena though ye mak' a kirk and a mill o' her." t''" '■•;*'■ •I 176 I AXCK HAD A LAD. ^.'< ^ »- * :/ t -', ■ .♦ '^.t #' I gaud up the dyke-side and slep'd into the kitclien, And there I met Nell wi' her smiles sae bewitchin', " I'm hanginV' quo' I, "like a horse in the brichin', Your father and mother, Ha'e gi'en their compluther, Nell ! ye needna misdoot it, But gi'e me your hand and say nae mair aboot it.'' She held out her hand, O ! how fondly I pressed it, Then her head on my shoulder how kindly it restit, And then her affection for me she confessed it : When the day we had fix'd, In the week after next, How I kissed her and clap'd her, And swore she was mine to the end of the chapter ! ••• ^.-»-^' Nitii ,,'!l!|| T Ance Had a Lad. Original Air by J. Orr Ftnnie, Esq., Pliiladtlpkia. ANCE had a lad was the light o' my e'e, But now I am dowie as dowie can be, 1 sit a' alane and I'm no like the lave, Since the laddie I lo'e lies cauld in his gravj. My Minnie comes ben and she wiles me to speak, But the wae-weary tear fa's doon o'er my cheek, And the Laird hirples ben wi' his laugh and his leer. To brag c his acres, his owsen and gear. The sigh o' my heart and the tear o' my e'e Are dearer than a' that he's promised to me — His words only deepen the thoughts o' regret, For the heart that loves truly can never forget : He rteetches and flatters to mak' me his ain,_ But I'm woo'd and I'm wed to him that is gane ; The wooer wha comes when the sun's shinin' bein Is no like the wooer wha cam' at the e'en ! sc'.>T(;h provkkhs. 177 kitchen, vitchin', brichin", oot It.'" •essed it, it restit, lit: THE WISDOM OV OUR FATHERS. fi. ^ELECTION OF ^COTCli PrOVEP^BS. chapter iilphia "As naething helps our happiness mair than to have the mind made up wi' right principles, I desire you, for the thriving and pleasure o( you and yours, to use your een and lend your lugs to these guid aithf saxvs, that shine wi' wail'd sense, and will as lang as the world wag:. Gar your bairns get them by heart j let them have a place among ymi fam- ily booii.s, and may never a window ;ulc liirougli the couniry be v.icli jut them."- Allan Ramsay. e. gravj. speak, eek, his leer, St, :et! ane ; r bein A' are iiae thieves that the dogs JKirk at. A dog winna yowl if ye fell hin. wi" a bane. A dry summer ne'er made a dear ptck. A bird in the hand is wort!: twn in the l)ush. A cat may look at a king. A dirty han" mak's a cJea'i heartli-stane. Ae hour's cauld will s-ick out s. \cn years' heat. A fu' purse ne'er ku "%;; frien's. A gangin' foot's aye gettin' (thougli it be but a thorn). A guid story tells twice. A guid name's suner tint than won. A Inmgry man's an angr) man. -A' complain o' want o' siller, nane o" want o" sense. ^ A: Stuarts are nae sib to the king. A man mav be kind an' liae little l'» gie. 15 i7r •*?.;*.* K ■ ^i% K^ *^ *.j ;»_ ■' '4i y"'. ■ ■'(^ it f t f«: . Vs. , . V •! >».;l^ t , ,,ji ■ ; ¥' '•'■^'^ii, 1 .H f ■-^» h "« ,' , 1'' < '■?*.-■; J ■■ '■ ,■■< ■ m ■ ! I m A m.in is weel or wae as he tliinks liimsel' sae. ^ A misty mornin' may he a clear day. A mou'fii' o' meat may be a townfu" o' shame. An ill pleL should be weel pled. A nods as guid's a wink to a blin' horse. As broken a ship has com' to .land. As welcome as snow in hairst. 'A sillerless man gangs fast through the market. A tocherless dame sits lan^' at hame. A wee bush is better than nae l)ield. A wilfu" man wad need to be unco wise. Auld spar'-ows are ill to tame. A slothtlr man's a beggar's l)rither. A's nae tint that's in danger. A hast}" man ne'er wanted wae. A giV'n horse should ne'er be lookic i' the mou'. Ae scabbet sheep spoils a' the flock. A burnt bairn dreids the fire. As the auld cock craws the }Oung ane learns. An ill shearer ne'er gat a good hook. A guid coo may hae an ill calf. A cock is crouse on his ain midden-head. Ane mav lead a horse to the water, but twenty winna mak' him drink, A boniiy bride's sune liusket, an' a short horse is soon Aviepet. A travelled man has lease to lee. An ill life, an ill end. Ance })ayed \\q.\q\ craved. A Scotch mist will weet an Englishman to the skin. Ae man's meat is anither's poison. A'thirg has an' end, an' a puddin' has tw a. A new tout on an auld horn. An idle brain's the deil's smiddy. A' are nae maidens that wear bare hair. A wee thing puts yer beard in a bleeze. An ounce o' mither-wil is worth a ])0und o" clergy. SLOICil I'ROVKRHS. 179 le. /' le. ct. oil kventy winna orse IS soon lit' skin. ultTg}'. Auld stots ha'c stiff horns. A sight o' you is giiid for sair e'en. Bend the back to the l)iirden. Better be hanged than ill married. Better a finger aff as aye wagging. Be a frien' to yoursel' an sae will ithers. Beggars shouldna be choosers. i»y guess, as the blin' man telled the dog. Better a toom house than an ill tenant. Better buy than borrow. Better sma' fish than nane. Better learn by your neibour's skaith tlian your ain skin. Better half an' egg than a toom dou[). Bring a coo to the ha' an' she'll rin to the byre. Be the same thing that ye wad be ca'd. Bet*:er be alane than in ill company. Bitin' an' scartin' is Scotch folk's wooiu'. Bannocks are better than nae kind o' l)read. Better be deid than oot o' fashion. Chuckle stanes are ill to chow. Chuckie stanes are nae chickens. Come unbidden, sit unserv'd. Comes wi' the wind an' gangs wi' the water. Count again is nac forbidden. Crooket carlin', ([uo' the crii>i)le to his wife. Come in and taste the tangs till the herrin's ready. decking time's aye caiUy. Cats are a' grey in the (kirk. Dinna cast awa' the cog when the coo flings. Do weel, an' dried nae shame. Double drinks are good for drouth, Drink little that ye may drink lang. Do the hkeliest, an' (iod will do the best. Dirt pairts guid company. Dummies canna lee. Every man wishes the water to his ain mill. Every man wears his belt his ain gate. i8o SCOTCH PROVKRnS. i ' fi ,.> .-itx 4 r J 'rill «^! •KV,, JT ^:„^4i '■■.111! 1. M ■ # 111. Every man's tale's giiid till anither man's is tauld. Iwery man ken's best whar his ain shoe binds him. Hither win the horse or tine the saddle. Fat hens are ill layers. 1^'ear God an' keep out o' debt. Fleyin' a bird is nac the gate to grip it. Fules should never see half-dune vvark. Fules mak feasts, an' wise men eat them, '"'*' "An' wise men mak' proverbs, an' fules repeat them.'' Fresh fish an' poor frien's grow sune ill-faur'd. Fule's haste is nae speed. For love o' the nurse mony ane kisses the bairn. Fair words ne'er brak a l^ane, foul words may. Far-sought and dear-bought are guid for leddies. Fules shouldna hae chappin' sticks, nor weavers gims. Folk should bow to the bush they get bield frae= Feed a cauld and hunsrer a colic. Fancy kills and Fancy cures. :,#•■ Fleas and a girnin' wife are waukrife bedfellows, (rang awa to yer bed, and if ye're spaired ye'll get soot to yer breakfast. Gust yer gab wi' that an' be thankfu'. Gar gress is ill to grow. Gie a dog an ill name, ye may as weel hang him. Gie him rope eneurh, an' he'll hang himsel'. (lin t/s an' az/^s were pots an' pans, there wad be nae need for tinklers. Gude folk are scarce, tak' care o' me. (iude gear gangs intil little buik (bulk)- -an" sae does DOJ^ ;n. Gie yer ain fish-g'\ts to yer ain sea-maws. Gut nae fish till ye get them. God sen's meat, an' the deil sen's cooks. Giff-gaff maks guid frien's. God never strikes wi' baith ban's. God never sen's mouths but He sen's meai for them. He's gat a hair in his neck. luld. s him. peat them.'' 1. lirn. y- iies. vers gims. frae= ows. ye'li get soot him. wad be nae an' sae does SCOTCH PROVERHS. i8i . for them. He doesna ken a B frae a bull's foot. He has nae mair mense than a miller's horse. He hasna a leg to stand on. He jumpit at it like a cock at a grossert. He has licket the butter aff his bread. Hae ! gars a deaf man hear. He wants a hair to mak a tether o'. He should hae a lang-shaftet spune that sups kail \vi' the deil. He has feathered his nest, he may flee whan he likes. He has crap for a' corn. Hae ye gear, hae ye nane — tine heart an' a's gane. He'll sune be a beggar that canna say Na. He doesna aye ride when he saddles his horse. He that cheats me ance, shame fa' /lim ; he that cheats me twice, shame fa* ?nc. He that deals in dirt has aye foul fingers. He has an e'e in his neck. He that has a muckle nose thinks ilka ane speaks o't. He that teaches himsel' has a fule for his maister. His bark is waur than his bite. He rode siccar that never fell. Hunger is guid kitchen. He that mayna as he wad, maun do as he may. Hair an' hair maks the carl bare. He that tholes overcomes. He that winna when he may, sanna when he Nsad. He ate the coo an' worried on the tail. Hame is hame, though ever so hamely. Hae God, hae a'. He sits fu' still that has riven breeks. He is at his wit's end. He's nae sae daft as he lets on. He counts his bawbee guid siller. He has muckle prayer, but litde devotion. He has ae face to God an' anithcr to tlie deil. ilka blade o' grass keps its oin dra]'> o' j\v, ■ ^Si>'.^l^^i l82 SCOTCH PROVKRJ5S. '^ if Ki •^ ;i . 1 ■ ■^': i i: b -W^: , '? • WL^ • ^-. 'X. )_ ' t's an ill wind lliat blavvs naebody guid. hae gi'en him a stick to brak my ain head. t's an' ill cause that a lawyer thinks shame o'. '11 gar ye laugh at the wrang side o' yer mou. '11 ne'er consent though yer hair was like John Harley's an' that was gowden yellow, winna mak fish o' ane and flesh o' another. t wad be a hard task to follow a black soo this night through a burnt muir. 'm o'er auld a cat to draw a strae afore. t's hard to sit at Rome an' fecht wi' the Pope. wadna ca' the king my cousin. ts an ill bird that fyles its ain nest. f it dinna sell it winna sour. f ye w^antit me an" yer meat, ye'd w^ant a guid frien'. f ye brew weel ye'll drink the better ale. 11-doers are aye ill-dreiders. 11 gat gear ne'er prospered. ouk, an' let the jaw gang b}'. Keep yer tongue at ween yer teeth. [Ceep yer breath to cool yer broth, indness canna be bought for gear, iving's caff is worth ither men's corn. ^ang looked for comes at last. ^auchin' to haud in the greet. .aw-makers shouldna be law-breakers. .aw's costly, tak' a pint an' gree. ^azy at meat, lazy at wark. ike a soo playin' on a trumj). Little odds atween a feast an' a fu' wame. Learn young, learn fair. s Like draws to like, a scabbet liorse to an auld dyke. Little gear, little care. Live in hope and dee in despair. Like the guidman o' Killpallet — unco simple. Like Cranshaw kirk — as monie dogs as folk and neither room for reel or rock. 0'. I. ihn Harlev's J this niglit )C. id frien'. lid dyke. c. k and ncidier SCOTCH rRoVKRI'.S. i«3 Let the tow gang wi' the bucket. Like the tailor o' Lockermacus — ye'U drink a' the profits. Looks as if butter wadna' melt in his mou'. " Mair din than woo,'' quo' the souter whan he sheared the soo. Maidens' bairns are aye weel l)red. Mair by luck than guid management. rMair haste the waur si)eed, quo" the tailor to the lang thread. Mak' a kirk or a mill o't. Mak' die best o' an ill bargain. Money mak's the mear to go. , Mony irons i' the fire — pairt maun cool. Mony hands mak' licht wark. Mony litdes mak' a muckle. > Muckle water rins by that the miller wats na o'. Muckle maun a guid heart thole. Muckle head, little wit. Na^ fule like an auld fule. Naething should be dune in a hurry but catchin" tleas. Naething to do but cry Fill an fetch ben. Nane sae weel but he hopes to be better. Nae plea is the best plea. Ne'er marry a widow unless her first man was hanged. Ne'er let on, but laugh i' yer ain sleeve. ' Ne'er put a sword in a wud man's hand. • Ne'er sca'd yer Hps wi' ither folk's kail. Near the kirk may be far frae (lod. Nae man has a tack o' his life. Nearest the heart comes out first. ■^ Nae wonder to see wasters want. O man ! an the deil war deid ye wad be chiefiiiourner. - Ower again's no forbidden. Ower mucklt hameliness spoils guid couries). Ower muckle o" ae thing 's guid for naething. Out o' debt, out o" danger. Pay him hame in his ain coin. IS4 SCOTCH I'ROVKkBS. .« •^r ^» ■ ,! •M* ! I'liir folks arc ghul o' broo. I'liir folks arc glad o' a ])cllyfu' o' onyl'Mii^. Pom in' walcr on a drooncd mouse. I'cnnylcss sauls pine in Purgatory. Raithcr spoil yer joke than tync ycr friend. Riclu wrangs nac man. !\(jyet lads may mak' sol)cr men. Rue in time. Raise nac mair dcils than ye're ahK to lay. Ride tlic foord as ye find it. Seein's believin', but feelin's die naked iriitli. Ser' yersel', till yer bairns come o' age. Set ;i stout heart to a stey brae. Sharp stamachs mak' short graces. Shallow waters mak' maist din. Sma' fish are better than nane. Speak guid o' pipers, for yer father was a fiddler. Sudden friendship, sure repentance. Seldom lies the deil dead at tiie dyke-side. Sune eneitch if weel eneuch, Su ) avva— yer teedi are langer than yer beard. Sair legs and ill wives should stay at hame. Surfeits slay mair than swords. Sue a beggar and gain a louse. There's a teugh sinent in an auld wifes heel. Tak' the bit an' the buffet wi't. Tak' tent in time. The young may dee, the auld f/Mu/i dee. The king may come in the cadgers gate. The langest day will hae an end. There's mony a true tale tauld in jest. There's aye some water whar the stirkie droons. There was ne'er eneuch whar naething was left. They are nae a' saunts that get holy water. Thole w^ed is guid for burnin'. " Tyne heart an' a's gane. TraviiD on a snail, an' she'll shoot out her lH);ns. cud. • lay. until. s a tuKllcr. sitlo. ;r beard, lainc. "s liccl. oe. itc. vie droons. g was left, vater. t her horns. StOK H I'KOV I KI'.S. •■^5 'I'hf soutcrs wifes warst siiod. The tailors wife's warst clad. The lander here, the lal« r ihere. The deil's a busy bishop in his ain diocese. 'I'he mair cost, the mair honour. The hi^^her up, the greater fa'. Tak' a man by his word, an' a coo l)y her horn. The grace of (lod is gear eneuch. The water will ne'er warr the widdie (cheat the gallows). There's a slii)|)ery stan<- ilka bodie's door. The maut's aboon the nieai. /rhey'U Hit in the Mers. )r u hen's gerse. What is ma case the da 'v be yours the morn. When prides afore, begging's ahint. -^ When ycr gangin' and comin' the road's no enii)ty. Where there's heat there's reek. ' Wealth mak's wit waver. We'll ne'er ken the want o' the water till the well gangs dry. -We'll bark oursel's ere we buy dogs sae dear. Wha daur l)ell the cat ? Whan ae door steeks anither opens. ■ Wink at wee fauts, yer ain are muckle. Whan drink's in wit's out. Whan the tod j)rcaches beware o' tlie hens. Wham Clod will help nane can hinder. Words are but wind, but dunts are the deil. Ye're maister o' yer ain words; but, ance spoken, )er words may maister you. Ye canna make a silk purse o' a soc/s lug. Ye cut muckle whangs out o' ither folk's cheese. Ye canna see wood for trees. Ye fand it whar the llielandman fand the tangs at the fireside. Ye hae tint the tongue o' your trumj). Ye hae the wrang soo by the. lug. *-Ye'll nae sell yer hen on a rainy day. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ^ /. (< ^ fc ^ V] <^ /i 7 (? / M 1.0 I.I Photographic Sciences Corporation £- US 110 1.8 11.25 III 1.4 ill 1.6 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ >^ 1 86 SCOTCH PROVERBS. Ye may dicht yer neb an' flee up. Ye ne'er saw green cheese but yer e'en reel'd. Ye're as daft as ye're days auld. Ye're weel awa', gin ye bide ; an' we're weel (iuat. Ye're sair fash'd wi' haudin' naething thegither. Ye wad do little for God if the deil was deid. Ye may blaw at a cauld coal. Ye're baith simmer'd and winter'd. Ye're just a blaw-ma-lug. Yer looks are no yer warst fau't. Ye've gat yer nose on the grindstone. Ye'll neither dance or haud the can'le. Ye'll neither hup nor wind. Yer absence is guid company. - Yer like Rab Dale's coo — as guid as yer bonnie. Ye ha'e a conscience like Coldingham Common. Ye're as cross as twa sticks. Ye're as bold as a Lammermoor Lion — /. e. a faced sheep. black- ipNi II: (II.OSSAKV 187 uat. GLOSSARY. inie. lion. e. a l)lack A', all Ae, one Aboon, above Afore, Dolore Alt, often Aften, often Ahint, behind Alblins, perhaps Aik, oak Ain, own I hiring Airl-penuy, a coin given as earnest in Airt, direction Ajee, ajar Alowe, in a flame Amang, among An, if Ance, once Anithcr, another Ase, aslies Atween, between Aucht, eiglit Auld, old Auld faurent, old fasliioned Ava, at all Awa', away A wmry, pantry Awms, alms Ayont, beyond Bairn, a child Bairns, children Baitli, both Bambooziled, stupitted Bauchels, old shoes Bauld, bold Bauzand, a horse or cow having a white spot on its forehead Beck, to bow, to nod Bein, comfortable Beld, bald Bely ve, bv and by Ben— see but and ben Besom, liearth-brush Bicker, drinking vessel Bield, shelter, refuge, protection Blgging, building Bike, wild bees' hive Bing'd, curtseyed Birr, spirit Birried. tossed Birrin', to throw, to run rapidly Birkie, a youni; fellow Birse, bristles Blate, bashful Blaw, blow Bleare'ed, dim eyed Blcfu't, bedimmcil Bleezing, blazing Bleth'rin, talking idly Blink, a little while, a smiling lODk. to look kindly, one sight Blinking, smirking Blvtlie, clic'.irful Bluid, blood I tiful Bonnie, or Bonny, handsome, beau- Bodiu', fortelling Bodle, iir Boddle, sixth part of an Engliiih penny Bogles, gonlins Boortree, the elder tree Bothy, a higliland cottage Brae, side of a hill Brat, a child Brattle, to run Braw, fine, liandsome Brawlie, perfectly, quite well Bread-pan, the mouth Brcekti. l)rot'che.s Buchts, sheep pens Buckle, marry Bumbazed, amazed, confused Busk, dress Bu^kotbruw, well dressed But iinfl ben, outer and inniT ai)art- ment Bully, chubby Burke, to elioke Burnio. streamlet But, without Brisket, the breast Ca'. to call, to name, to drive Caickle, cackle Callan, a boy Caller, Iresh, sound Cam, come Camstery, perverse, self-willed Cannie. gentle, mild, dextrous Cantie, or Canty, merry, eheen'ul Cantle, crown of the head Cantrip, incantation, spell Carle, an old man Carlie, a little boy Carline, a .'^tcmt old woman Carritcli, catechism Carry, tlie sky Castoek, the stalk of the cabba;;e Cauld. cold Cauldrilf, cold Certie, truth Cluuiter, pari of a bagpipi- Cliield, a young man lit?' .♦ : ■". i |4^ i88 (ILOSSARV. mfy- ; ■ ,". JW ! 1 ^ : :i:*4 . wonders Fielding, uneasy Fieht.ilciid rilfa', footfall Fislh'. Imstle Flaller, llntter Flee, lly Fleoel!. Ill supplicate, to coftx For))ye. besioes Forgie.to forgive Forjesket, tired, wearied Fou, full, tipsy Foumart, a fox Fouth. lots Fiae.from Fullln". pulling FuMull Funk, to kick Fyke, rivstlessness GLOSSA'^V. iS,> wise, prudettt •let", sloepy f inability )wly , , ■0 of meal aivl jr wot. ■h Uio elbow ;ioublo(l oine 1)1(1 ;ite, to COAX wearied Gab, llic tnoiith, to tipoitk boldly or pertly Gabbing, Hpeakln;; and chatttnt; Gae, to go Gaed, went Gaon, or Gane, gone Gael, or Gate, way, nianni>r. road Gaffaw, loud biutjliter Gans, to no, to walk Gar, to make, to force Gart, made Gaacy,.ii»lly, large Gann, ijolng Gauntreus, framu» ou wliicli oaskii are placed Gawky, foollali, romping Gear, richey, goods of any kind (Jee, pet Gerse, grass GhalHt, a ghost Gle, to give Glrnlng, grlnnin-i Qled, gave Glen, given Gllpey, iialf-gfown, halt Informed bov or girl Gin, if, against Glalkot, foolish, mad Glamour, the intluenceof a charm Glanr, mud Gled, a hawk Gleg, quick, clear-sighted Glint, glance Gliuk, glimpse Gloamin', twilight Glow'r, to stare, to look Glunch, frown, giooju Gomeril, a fool Goupins, handfulH Goustle, gliostly Gowau, mountain or Held daisy Gowd. gold Gowk, fool Grannie, grandmother Grane, groan Grat, wept Gree, pre-eminouce Greetln', crying, weepin'4 Grlen, to wish, covet Grit, great Gript, grasped Grop, to feel Growl, anarl, discontent Gruc, shudder Grup,grip Gude, good Guid e'en, good evening Guid-mornin', good morning Guidman and Guidwife, the master and mistress of the house Guidfather and Quidmother, the father-in-law and mother-in-law Gntcher, grandsire Ha', hall Uae, to have Haen, had Hale, whole Hulrst, harvest Halesoiue, wholtMomo llallan, cottage Hallunshakur, a (tcamp sfho i*: shaking In the hallan, a 4t«) tt gar man Hamu, home llaftits, sides of the liead Hatllns, the half Hantle, great deal Hap, to shield, to cover up Haruni scaram, half-mad Haugh, a low tlat piece of liiud Hauu, hold Hoar't, hear It Haver, to talk foolishly Hech ! oh, strange Helch, high Herrln', herring Hlnney, honey Hlrple,to walK lame Hlzzle, romping girl notch,. jolt, shalce Hoodle-craw, a raven Hool, husk Howdle, a mldwllV Howket. dug Howlet, owl Hurklln, cowering Ilk, each Ilka, every Ingle, tiro-nlace Ingleslde, fireside I'se, I shall or will Ither. other, out; anothfr ,Iag, prick .Taunt, a journey .laupit, bespattered ,Iaw, raillery, wave Jee. change .link, to dodge, to round a corner .Jo, sweetheart .Touk, stoop down .Joyfu', joyful illd.i turn suddeulf Kail-yard, cabbage garden Kame, comb Kebbuck, a cheese Keeic, look, a peep, to peep Keeking-glass, looking-glass Kelpies, evil spirits haunting stream! Kempin', striving Ken, to know Keud, or Kent, knew Kenna, know not Kens, knows Keps, catches Kill, a portion of the highland garh Klmmer, a gossip Itln, kindred, relations Kirn, a churn, the liarvii.sl suppsr Klrsen, christen or baptize Kist, chest Kittle, to tickle, tickliab Knowe, a small round hlll')Cit Kye, cows \ ()0 (;i.OSSARV. M ■> ti^ '^M, t' >t' tlio inoiintain ash Uowpit, lioarrtu IJuhbit, iMihhod IJunK, a walking stick Hue, HO Salt, Hoil aalr, Horu Salily.Horoiy Sang, Hong Sack, Hhirl Sa88cnacli,Siisi>ii or linuiamlor Scaur, asttMipliank Scraugliin', H(tr(;aniln!; Scroca, to Ifctiiro Hcrivoin', U) goswUlly Scunner, disgust Sol', soil" Sliank, to (lopiut or sot of), a thin Hcrankv lou, a liauUio Slianolilod, ill or looHoly sliapcd Sliaw,awoo(l inal\oll()\v place Klicaring, reaping Sliciling, cot, a cottai;<' Sliili, Hlirill Slilndlo, disturbance Sliorking, wot tool Sic, sucfi Slccan.sucli Sicker, keen Siller, Bllver money Simmer, summer Sin', 8lnce Skaith, to damage to inj\ire, injury Skeigli, proud, nice, higli mettled Skolly, to squint Skolp, to strike, to walk with a smart tripping step Skirling, shrieking, crying Skreigli, a scream, to scream Slaw, slow, dull Sice, sly Sleekit, sleek, sly Slogan, cry, war cry Sma,' small Smack, kis-< Smeddum, strong, active Smoored, smothered Snaw, snow, to suow Snawy-drit't, snow-drift Sneeshtn', snuff Sonsy, stout, good looking Sough, the sigiiing of the wind Souse, to plunge, dip Spak', spake Speel'd, clamh Speir, ask Speired, inquired Spence, parlor aplarge, splutter Sprachlm', scrambling Spurtle, a stick with wliicti porridge is stirred when boiling Stane, stone Staney, stoney Stappit, stepped Starn, or Sternie. a star Stock, HllMl Stendod, Ht.rldod or w;ilk<^d HtotH, oxen Stonn, pang Stonp.-i, ni viHures for holding 11i|uiilM Stour, dust Stown, stolen Rtraevagol, to go Idloly Sun)ph, fool Snnkots. left inoat^ Swarf, fright Swarf, swoon Swatter, spliutor, llounc' Swoirt, not, curing Syiio, then Tai'ii, tiiktfM Tiik', to take Takin', taking 'j'lik'tfiit. take heed Tano, totlior, Mio one, llio oilier 'fapsaUeerio, upside, down Tent, (Mint ion, to take lieod Thao, these Thegillier, together Tholo, sulfor, req'iire, endure Thowiess, (H)ld, brokonliearted Thrapple,tho throat Thraws, turns Tine, to lose Tings, tongs Tint, lost Titlior, tlio other Titterin', giggling Tittle, sister Tittlon, to wliisi)er Tochor, marriage portioit Toddlin, totterliig Tooni, empty Totting, a cfiild's run Tousle, disordered, hair uncombed Trig, spruce, neat Trow, neliove, know Tryst, a meeting by appointment Twa, two Tyke, dog Tyne, lose Unco, strange Uncouth, uncomely Usqueba, a kind ol wiiisky Wa'j wall Wad. would Waddin', wedding Wadna, would not Wac, sorrowful Waefu', walling, woeful Waes, woes Walr, to lay out, to expend Wallop, to leap, strike Walth, plenty Wark, work Warlock, wizard Warst, worst Warstle, wrcstl*^ Wat-ve, know yo Waukin', waking Wankrife, 3leepie«w 192 Ul.OSSARY. Wiiui'. worMO , Whaii, child Weary, or WeArlo, tlr«d WtHlo, WHuded W<««. llttKi Weol. well Woelfnro, wolfHre Weol walod, woll chotten Wuca, 11 vow— 1 wuun, I wot Woet, nUii, wutnoHH, dew Weir, wjii' Wolrd, dcHtluy We '80, we Bhair Willi, who Whtt'll, who will WhH wadim, who would not Whuck, to fall, to Mlrilctt WhaiiK, to ciU Wharc, whern Wliiff. to lly oir Whilk. whleh Whinjrin'. to whine Whisht, silence Whiukut, brushed past WhudH, runs nimbly Whumnilin', to Uwn over Whup, with Wi'. with Willows, baskets Wimple, me»ndei-in>!; ul" a brook, a «'iirl, nndnlatlou Wlnna, will uol WinHome, hearlv, i;ay Wi/end, wrinkled, withered, dried u{» Woo', wool Woo. to court, to make love Wraith, an apparition exactly like a living perHoa, the appearance of which iH said to forebode titu per- son's death Wranjj, wroiiy;, to wroni; Wud, mad, distracted Wull cat, wild cat Wylic, cautious Wyto, blame Yade, pony Yalf, chat, bark like a doe Yammer, t > grumble Yatter, senseless talk Ye'll, you will Yerk, to strike Ye'se, you shall Yestreen, last ninht Yett, gate Yo've, ye liavo Ylrd , earth Yoursel*. yoursell' Youthfu', youthful Ytile, Chrlstma.* I lotl.wUheitMl, dried ui» to IllttkU loVM mrltlou uxttotly like tt I. the ttppouruuco of to Toroiiodi' tliu por- to wroiiji ructt'd ;ut llk»' A dug uiiblc H tttlk i«lit ill fill